


Dawn Over The Mohawk.

by steeleye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Drums Along The Mohawk
Genre: F/M, Romance, Time Travel, action adventure, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xover with the movie; 'Drums along the Mohawk'. While escaping from Sunnydale, Dawn tasers Xander causing their car to crash. Suddenly they're transported in space and time to the other side of the country and over two hundred years into the past!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dawn Over the Mohawk.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or 'Drums Along the Mohawk', I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** Drums Along the Mohawk. Directed by; John Ford. Screenplay by; Lamar Trotti and Sonya Levien, based on the book written by; Walter D Edmonds.

**Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

**Timeline:** BtVS; Season Seven, Episode 21, 'End of days'.

**Words:** 17 Chapters of 2500+ words.

**Warnings:** I'm British and the last time I watched this film I suddenly realised I should be cheering for the poor, down trodden, Indians (Native Americans, if you must) and not the evil American colonists (damn, rebellious, ingrates!)...you have been warned. Oh yeah, there's sex and violence and all that good stuff too!

**Summary:** Xover with the movie; 'Drums along the Mohawk'. While escaping from Sunnydale, Dawn tasers Xander causing their car to crash. Suddenly they're transported in space and time to the other side of the country and over two hundred years into the past!

0=0=0=0

Thunder boomed, lightning flashed and Dawn screamed!

“What the freaking...!” trying to move, Dawn found her legs were encased in long, wet skirts, she tripped and nearly fell.

Managing to save herself by grabbing hold of the back of a chair, she angrily untangled her legs from the heavy, damp, cloth that was wrapped around them. Waiting for another flash of lightning she listened to the rain as it poured down from the heavens in biblical quantities. Several questions were foremost in her mind; where was she? Where was Xander, and why was she standing around in wet, unfashionable clothes that definitely weren't hers?

“Okay,” taking a deep breath, Dawn slowed her racing heart, she decided to answer these questions in order of importance, “Right, where's Xander?”

As far as she could remember Xander had been driving the car as they headed out of Sunnydale; apparently Buffy had told him to take her to Los Angeles for Angel to look after while she dealt with The First. Angry at her sister for trying to send her away, Dawn had tasered Xander, which she now freely admitted wasn't the brightest thing to do as Xander was driving the car at the time. Although she'd tried to grab the wheel, Dawn had lost control of the vehicle as Xander slumped unconscious across the wheel and his foot pressed down on the accelerator. Skidding across the highway they'd bounced off the curb and into the ditch at the side of the road; Dawn remembered sliding off her seat and hitting her head, after which everything went black until she woke up here...wherever 'here' was.

So, no Xander. He'd obviously not ended up in the same 'here' as she had, which sort of scared her a little. At this moment a couple of more questions popped into Dawn's mind, was she dead or was she in one of the alternate realities Willow and Anya were always talking about? Not feeling particularly dead, Dawn came down on the side of the 'alternate reality' theory...she didn't have to worry about whether she was in heaven or hell that way.

“Okay,” Dawn breathed quietly, “now I've got that totally sorted out, where the freaking hell am I?”

As she was waiting for another flash of lightning to illuminate her surrounding, Dawn congratulated herself on dealing with the situation so well and not falling apart like so many other people might have done. If she was honest with herself, what she'd really like to do right now was fall apart and run to Buffy for comfort and protection. But Buffy didn't appear to be around, so she'd have to face up to everything the universe threw at her all by herself.

Just then there was a terrific flash of lightning accompanied by a clap of thunder louder than any she'd ever heard before. It was so loud that the over-pressure physically struck her, making her cower in fear a little and her teeth vibrate. It sounded like the world was about to end. However, by the light of the lightning, Dawn saw that she was in some kind of log cabin, quite a big log cabin, maybe a little bigger than the family room at home.

In the five seconds or so that the lightning had bathed everything in a harsh, white glare, Dawn had seen a fire place, a couple of chairs (one of which she was still hanging onto) a fancy looking antique dresser and a ladder-like set of stairs leading up to a small second floor. Another, thankfully less spectacular flash of lightning illuminated the room again for a moment or two and Dawn saw the pots and pans neatly arranged around the fireplace and the big vase of dried flowers resting on the mantelpiece above it. Shivering in her wet clothes, Dawn really wished the fire was alight and warming her chilled body right now. Her shivering awoke Dawn's survival instincts, if she didn't do something to get warm soon, she might die of hypothermia.

Walking over to the fireplace and once again almost tripping on her heavy, wet, dress, Dawn searched for some matches. Her hands ran along the mantelpiece until they touched what felt like a small wooden box. Hoping against hope that whoever belonged to the cabin kept their matches in the box, she pulled it down from the shelf and fumbled it open. The lid flew open and Dawn spilled the contents onto the floor.

“Damn it!” Dawn cried as she fell to the bare boards and started to search for the elusive matches.

Her hands felt several objects but none of them were either matches or other forms of fire lighting equipment. Suddenly Dawn felt like crying as she sat there amidst the scattered contents of the box.

“What kind of idiots don't have any matches!?” Dawn demanded of an uncaring universe, “Damn-it, damn-it, DAMN-IT!” she cried as she pushed herself to her feet again and noticed the door to the cabin start to creak slowly open, “Xander?” she called hopefully.

But it wasn't Xander, it was something or someone far less comforting than her childhood friend. Stepping into the cabin came a tall man wrapped in a colourful blanket with an oddly shaped and feather decorated hat on his head, he was also carrying some sort of long gun in his arms. He stared down at Dawn with malignant indifference. Screaming in fear, Dawn backed away from the man as he continued his slow advance into the cabin and towards her. Thunder and lightning raged supplying an unearthly accompaniment to the scene as Dawn came up hard against the fireplace.

Giving an extra loud scream as she realised she'd nowhere left to retreat to, Dawn found her hand had come into contact with the handle of one of the pots that lay around the fireplace. Lifting the heavy skillet, Dawn felt its comforting weight, wrapping both hands around the it's handle she swung it with all her strength at the intruder. Obviously the demon-like miscreant didn't expect Dawn to fight back because he just stood there and let Dawn hit him.

The skillet hit the invader's head with a satisfying 'CLUNK!'. The burglar, or whoever he was, cried out in pain and surprise as he started to fall to his knees. Swinging the pan again, Dawn hit him on the other side of his head and heard him groan as he fell to lie on the floor. All the fear and anger, Dawn had felt at having been thrown into some sort of weird situation where she was cold, wet and frightened, welled up in her chest. It was pay back time for every time some monster had kidnapped her or threatened her. Raising the skillet above her head, Dawn brought it smashing down onto the monster's skull. 

Dawn kept on hitting the man-thing time and time again until, instead of going 'CLUNK', the pan made a sort of 'SQUELCH' sound each time it hit home. Panting, she stopped hitting the man-demon-whatever and stepped back from the corpse, however she didn't loosen her death grip on the heavy, iron, frying pan, in fact she drew comfort from it. With it in her hand she was powerful and not the helpless teenage girl she'd been only a few moments ago.

“That'll teach you...you bastard!” Dawn spat the words out at the dead body.

Lifting the pan, she saw the black, glistening blood on the skillet from where she'd killed the man, it turned red every time the lightning flashed and lit up the room.

“Oh god,” Dawn suddenly started to feel sick, “what have I done!?”

Trying to tell herself she'd acted in self defence and had probably saved herself from being raped and killed (or killed and then raped, some demons were really icky that way), Dawn slowly calmed herself down. With no one else to rely on she'd have to look after herself and if that meant she had to beat intruders to death with iron pans then so be it; intruders beware! Seeing another figure standing in the still open door, Dawn screamed again and lifted her skillet ready to defend her honour once more.

“Dawn?” came a familiar voice.

“XANDER!” Dawn cried with relief as she lowered her weapon and slumped against the fireplace; she wasn't alone in this rather wet world populated only by strange man-like creatures that stalked threateningly into her house (some how Dawn's mind had already taken possession of the log cabin).

“DAWN!” Xander called as he started across the room towards her, “Are you OOH...!”

With a surprised cry, Xander tripped over Dawn's latest victim and fell to the floor hitting his head on the arm of a chair as he went down.

“XANDER!” Dawn screamed in alarm as she heard his body thump onto the bare, wooden floorboards.

Dropping to her knees next to her friend, Dawn cradled his head in her arms.

“Xander, Xander,” she cried desperately terrified that he might be dead, “are you alright?”

Making no reply Xander just lay there unmoving in Dawn's arms.

“Oh my god, what shall I do?” Dawn asked; as usual god didn't have anything helpful to say so remained quiet, the lightning flickered outside allowing Dawn to see the little trickle of dark blood on Xander's forehead just above his eye patch, “Oh no!” Dawn wailed in despair as she hugged his head to her chest.

Realising she needed to stop acting like a heroine out of a romantic novel and actually _do_ something to help her friend, Dawn sniffed back her tears and laid Xander's body back down on the floor. Okay, she told herself, time for some positive action. Remembering something about leaving an unconscious person on their side so if they threw up they wouldn't drown in their own vomit, Dawn gently rolled Xander onto his side. As she did so she noticed the he was wearing weird clothes too and that they were soaking wet.

Resting her hand against Xander's cheek she found his skin was cold and clammy. Shivering badly herself Dawn realised that she needed to get them both out of their wet clothes and into something warm and dry...there was also a dead man lying in front of the fireplace. Standing up she took the step needed for her to stand over the dead body. With a commendable presence of mind she put the gun and the big sharp knife she found attached to the man's belt to one side before she grabbed him by the shoulders and starting to heave him towards the door.

By the time Dawn had got the dead man outside, she was drenched through with rain water and sweat and she couldn't keep her hands still because she was shivering so much. Her teeth were chattering so loudly that it sounded like someone was using an old fashioned typewriter in her mouth. Closing the door behind her, Dawn leant against it to catch her breath for a moment. Xander was still lying unmoving on the floor in an expanding patch of damp as the water leaked from his clothes.

Blankets, Dawn thought, there must be blankets somewhere in the cabin. Remembering the steps leading up to the small upstairs area, Dawn strode across the room (being careful not to trip over her skirts) to the ladder. Taking a firm grip on the handrail and pulling her skirts out of the way, she climbed up into the raised area. With a cry of relief, she saw the bed piled high with blankets and quilts. Rushing over to the bed, Dawn realised that she'd never be able to get Xander up the ladder and into the bed, neither would she be able to get the bed downstairs, but she could move the blankets.

Forcing her frozen, trembling limbs into action again, Dawn started to pull the blankets from the bed and throw them into the room below. Only stopping when she got down to the sheets, she turned and headed back down the ladder. Once again in the main room, Dawn arranged the blankets and quilts into a cozy nest on the floor. How she wanted to just curl up and go to sleep, she was so exhausted both physically and emotionally, but she had to help Xander.

Crawling over to where he lay, Dawn tried to feel his pulse, it seemed okay but as she was no real expert he could have been fine or about to die she couldn't tell. Deciding to look on the bright side, Dawn told herself that Xander would be fine as long as she got him warm and dry. As she started to roll him towards the blanket nest, Dawn's hands came in contact with his sopping wet clothes again. Wrapping him up in dry blankets when he was wearing wet clothes probably wasn't a good idea. 

Sitting back on her heels and sighing heavily, Dawn realised there was only one thing to do, she'd have to get him out of his wet things before she got him under the blankets. Forcing her cold fingers to work, Dawn started to unbutton Xander's clothes. If Dawn had been more alert she might have wondered at the lack of zips and how everything Xander wore appeared to be made out of natural fibres. But she wasn't so she didn't, also when she got down to his underwear she closed her eyes and turned her head away so she wouldn't be tempted to peek!

After what felt like an eternity Dawn'd finally got Xander's out of his wet clothes. Opening her eyes, she found herself kneeling next to his naked body. Telling herself it didn't matter because she could hardly see anything anyway, even in the last few flashes of lightning as the storm faded away into the distance. Being careful where she put her hands, Dawn rolled Xander into the nest she'd made. Slumping down next to him, she almost fell asleep right there and then. Forcing herself to stay awake she started to pull at her own wet clothes. Her numbed fingers fumbled with buttons and laces until she too was naked and sitting next to Xander's cold, unconscious body. Wondering at what she was thinking, Dawn realised she was going to have to get under the blankets with Xander if she wanted to save them both. Vaguely remembering something about close bodily contact being a good way of warming someone up if he or indeed she was cold and there wasn't a fire. Dawn climbed over Xander's body and lay down beside him.

“What the heck,” Dawn told herself as she arranged the blankets to cover them both, “Xander's out for the count, plus he's a good guy he wouldn't do anything to me even if he was awake.”

Satisfied that they were both covered by the blankets, Dawn took a deep breath before she snuggled up to Xander's cold clammy body. Hoping against hope that they'd both be fine and able to work out where they were in the morning, Dawn fell rapidly into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Watery sunlight leaked through the window to creep across the floor until it fell across Dawn's face causing her to shift on her covers as she tried to move away from the light. Dawn didn't want to wake up, not just yet, she felt warm and comfortable and safe, she was snuggled up to someone who had their arm around her making her feel all protected and if she woke up she'd have to deal with the world. To be honest Dawn didn't want to deal anything, she was sixteen and she shouldn't have to deal with stuff like weird alternate realities and having to kill man-like demons in the middle of humongous thunderstorms.

“Oh my god!” Dawn's eyes flew open as she remembered the events of the previous night, “Oh my god!” she cried as she felt something hot and hard pressed against her butt cheek, “Ewww!” she squeaked as she realised what it was.

Grabbing one of the quilts that she and Xander had been sleeping under, Dawn wrapped it around herself as she sat up and moved away from where Xander slept the sleep of the recently hit over the head. Pushing her tangled hair out of her eyes, Dawn took a moment to really look at her childhood friend. He had a huge bump on his forehead from where he'd tripped over the body of the demon and fallen to hit his head on the chair, there was also a small cut and some dried blood. Absently Dawn told herself she'd need to wash that and maybe put a dressing on the wound. Other than the bruise on his forehead, Xander looked well enough, Dawn listened to his breathing which sounded strong and regular. He sounded okay, she told herself, so if he was 'okay' why hadn't he woken up? Reaching out, Dawn shook his shoulder.

“Xander?” she called uncertainly, “Are you okay?” This elicited a groan from the man in question, “Xander, please wake up,” Dawn shook his shoulder again, “you're frightening me...”

“Dawn?” Xander moaned, he moved a little as consciousness returned, “What...?” slowly Xander's eye blinked open to focus on Dawn, “Dawn?” he said as he started to sit up pausing only to put his hand to his forehead, “Dawn...” he had his eye fully opened now and he was taking in his surroundings, “Dawn...what...?” at this point a memory of what had happened the previous night made itself known to his confused brain. “Where...?” 

More or less at this moment Xander realised he was naked and lying wrapped up on a quilt and several blankets. It also occurred to him that as he was naked and he had no memory of undressing the previous night; he quickly put two and two together and came up with...

“DAWN!?” Xander gathered his bedding around himself and sat up straight, “Did you...? I mean...last night I remember...” Xander gave a helpless groan as he imagined what Buffy would say or do when she found out he'd let Dawn undress him and... “Oh my god!” It had suddenly occurred to him that Dawn appeared to be dressed in nothing but a quilt and... “Oh my god Buffy's gonna kill me...”

“What Buffy does or doesn't do about you sleeping with me...” Dawn began only to be interrupted by a cry of despair from Xander's mouth, “...totally isn't important right now,” Dawn surprised herself at sounding so calm, “we've got like bigger problems.”

“We have?” Xander asked not really believing his ears; what was a bigger problem than Buffy finding out he'd slept with Dawn on the floor of what, now he took a moment to look around, looked like a log cabin, “What could be a bigger problem than your sister killing me?”

“Erm...” Dawn climbed to her feet while being careful to keep her quilt wrapped tightly around her, she was also starting to wonder where the bathroom was.

“What the hell?” Xander began to get to his feet but unlike Dawn he wasn't quite as careful about keeping any bedding wrapped around him.

“Yikes!” Dawn gasped as she caught a glimpse of Xander's morning erection; quickly turning away she tried to concentrate on the pile of wet clothes that lay on the floor at her feet, “What do you remember?” Dawn asked to stop herself thinking about Xander's...'thing'.

“We were driving,” Xander began slowly as he covered himself up, “Then I felt this sharp pain, then everything went numb and...”

“Sorry,” Dawn said quietly.

“Sorry?”

“I like tasered you,” Dawn admitted.

“Oh thank god for that,” Xander cried in relief, “I thought I'd had a fit or something.”

“Then we're cool?” Dawn asked hopefully as she turned to face Xander once more.

“Yeah, well, we're both still alive so...”

“What else do you remember?” Dawn asked quickly to get Xander off the subject of how she'd nearly killed them both.

“It went dark...” Xander began as he looked around the cabin, “...then I remember waking up standing in a barn or something. There was a horse and a wagon and thunder and lightening and...” Xander's eye had fixed on the blood stain on the floor, “Now I remember...I came in here, saw you, asked if you were okay then I fell over something and hit my head on...” his eyes were riveted to the patch of blood on the floor. “Is that my blood?”

“Erm...” Dawn glanced from Xander to the dark brown stain on the floorboards, “...no,” she tried to sound as innocent as she could, “umm, I'll totally explain about that later, now do you feel? Okay?”

Stepping towards Xander, Dawn trod on the edge of the quilt that she had wrapped around her. Stumbling she let go of the quilt and reached out to Xander to save herself. A moment later she found herself completely naked and pressed up against Xander's blanket clad body.

“YIKES!” Dawn screamed again as Xander gallantly turned to look away; however he couldn't stop himself from noticing Dawn's body in all its sexy, pink glory for just a moment.

“Sorry,” Xander found himself saying although he didn't know what he was being sorry about...unless...unless it was for the thoughts that had passed through his mind on seeing Dawn naked.

“We need clothes!” Dawn cried as she rearranged the quilt around herself again.

“Yeah...” Xander agreed with some feeling, Buffy was so going to kill him and then have Willow bring him back from the dead so she could kill him all over again!

“Okay...” Dawn, satisfied that she was decently covered once more turned away from Xander; she saw a door under the ladder that led up to the top deck where the bed was situated.

Heading for the door, Dawn really hoped she'd find a bathroom, but she didn't. Finding what she was almost sure people used to call a 'scullery', she paused for a moment to look around. The room looked like it came out of a photograph in one of her school history books. There were big heavy looking sacks with 'Flour' printed on them. There were smaller sacks with 'Salt' and 'Sugar' plus a barrel with 'Molasses' printed on the outside. From the ceiling there hung big sides of what she guessed was bacon, along with strings of onions, bunches of carrots and what were probably herbs.

However, of a bathroom, for which Dawn was feeling increasingly in need of, there was no sign; she did find an old water pump over a sink. Just for a moment she considered peeing into the sink, but when she noticed that the sink drained into a large bucket she rejected the idea. Stepping over to the sink she tried the water pump, it squeaked loudly as some water dribbled from its spout, catching some in her hand she tasted it. It looked clear and smelt fresh, but she had a strong urge to boil any water she was planning on drinking until she found out where the pump got its supply from. Unfortunately all this speculation wasn't helping her find a bathroom and thus preventing herself from having an embarrassing accident. Seeing another door, Dawn marched over to it, unbolted it and found herself outside in the cool morning air. It was then that she saw it standing not a dozen yards away as her heart started to beat loudly in her chest and she realised what this meant.

“Oh gross,” Dawn sighed resignedly to herself, “an outhouse!”

Dawn had seen an outhouse before, she'd even had to use one. The monks had given her the memory of a family camping trip to some National Park when she'd been six or seven. There had been no proper 'bathrooms' at the camping ground where they'd stopped, Dawn remembered that Buffy (who'd been about ten at the time) had also been disgusted. With a heavy heart, Dawn advanced on the outhouse, 'needs must' she told herself, it was either this or nothing. Opening the door she almost gagged, the 'outhouse' at that long ago camping ground was the height of luxury and hygiene compared to this... Words failed Dawn as she stepped inside and reluctantly closed the door behind herself.

0=0=0=0

Alone in the room, Xander stood and looked around for a moment or two. He saw the pile of wet clothes lying on the floor, the blood stain and the contents of a small wooden box that lay scattered on the floor near the big fireplace. Walking over he saw that there was fire wood and kindling arranged in the fireplace just waiting for someone to put a match to it. Not seeing any matches, he squatted down to retrieve the flint and steel from the floor. When he'd been about ten or eleven, Xander had had a brief flirtation with the Boy Scouts of America and outdoors living (any discomfort was worthwhile if it meant getting away from his parents for a day or two). One of the things he'd learnt during his brief period as a 'Junior Frontiersman' was how to use a flint and steel to start a fire. Over the years he'd been tempted to use his fire starting skills at home...but that was another story.

After only a few tries, Xander got the fire going, he held his hands out to the little flames that flickered in the grate for a moment before standing up again and heading for the door. As he turned from the fireplace his eyes fell on the long musket that stood leaning against the wall. He walked over and examined it, the weapon looked a little like the ones used in the Revolutionary War. Shrugging he left the weapon where it was and went back to the front door. Opening the door he stepped outside and nearly tripped over the body that was lying in the mud just outside.

“DAAAAAAAAAWN!!!” he yelled.

0=0=0=0

“Okay, that wasn't so bad,” Dawn tried to tell herself as she stood with her back resting against the door to the outhouse, “who am I trying to kid?” she muttered, “That was totally disgusting...I hope there's a motel or something close by,” just for a moment Dawn fantasised about showers and proper toilets and hot water and...

Her eyes drifted across the little garden behind the cabin. Recognising peas, carrots, potatoes plus a load of stuff her 'Rural Science' classes hadn't touched on, Dawn realised that this was a kitchen garden.

“Okay, so at least we're not going to starve,” she told herself.

Almost as if the garden had opened her eyes, Dawn started to take in other details; like the chickens that clucked quietly as they scratched in the dirt for something to eat. Or the cow that was looking accusingly at her from the other side of a rail fence, or indeed the horse that was looking at her from over the top of the door in the side of what had to be a barn.

“Oh god,” Dawn almost whimpered, “I'm trapped on a farm!”

“DAAAAAAAWN!!!” Her name drifted on the air to her ears from the direction of the cabin.

“Oh god!” Dawn started to make best speed towards the front of the little house in the wilderness.

Bursting into the main room, Dawn saw Xander standing in the doorway at the front of the cabin.

“Oh crap!” Dawn cried when she realised what Xander must have found.

“Dawn!” Xander turned to look at her, he was looking more than a little angry.

“Xander!” Dawn smiled guiltily, “I know what you're totally gonna say...”

“Is it something like...why is there a dead Native American lying on the doorstep?” Xander asked sarcastically, “Because if it is you'd be right!”

“Erm...” Dawn hesitated for a moment, eventually she thought of something to say, “A Native American?”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head firmly, “complete with war paint...I think.”

“A Native American?” Dawn repeated as she slowly realised what she'd done, “I thought he was a demon.”

“A demon?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded close to tears, “it was dark and there was all this thunder and lightening and he just sorta appeared there and I thought...”

Suddenly Dawn couldn't hold it together anymore and she burst into tears. Rushing to her side, Xander hugged Dawn but had to step away when he started to feel himself get aroused at Dawn's proximity and his blanket had begun to slip.

“Okay Dawnie,” Xander laid one hand on her shoulder as he used the other to keep his blanket in place, “I won't call the cops but we need to do something about the body...”

“Bury it!” Dawn suggested urgently.

“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “but first I think we should find some clothes...”

“Clothes?” Dawn asked her earlier tears forgotten for the moment, “We need to bury the evidence of a murder and all you can think about is being properly dressed?”

“Hey, look!” Xander replied a little of his own anger and fear showing through, “I've worked construction and I'm here to tell you that being wrapped up in a blanket is not the way to go if you need to dig a hole!”

“Oh!” Dawn agreed after seeing the logic of Xander's argument, “Yeah I get that...” she looked at the wet clothes that still lay on the floor, “...we can't wear those and I better look at that cut on your head.”

0=0=0=0

A comprehensive search of the cabin brought to light no spare clothing. It was only when Xander went out into the barn and searched the back of the wagon that he found several heavy wooden chests filled with male and female clothing. Collecting up a big armful of clothes, he returned to the cabin after carefully stepping over the body of the dead Amerindian. Squealing with joy, Dawn snatched the clothes from Xander's arms and started to search through them. Her joy was soon dampened when she discovered that all the clothes looked as if they came from a movie's props department. Sorting out the 'girl's' clothes Dawn retreated to the scullery to dress while Xander used the main room to change from his blanket into a pair of knee length britches and a big floppy shirt.

“Hey,” Dawn called as she stood dressed in a long, full skirt and white cotton blouse, “this is like real weird..”

“You're not wrong,” Xander agreed as he looked down at himself.

“No, I didn't mean that,” Dawn replied, “I mean, yeah this is weird,” she pulled at her skirt, “but have you looked at the stitching?”

“Wasn't the first thing I looked at,” Xander explained.

“Even I can see its all totally hand stitched,” Dawn pointed out, “I know film makers are all about the 'real' when they do the costumes nowadays, but hand stitching...?”

“Oh crap,” Xander sighed as he slowly realised what had happened.

“If you do that 'Kansas' line from the Wizard of Oz,” Dawn warned as she picked up a handy cooking pot, “I'll brain you with my skillet!”

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

The ramifications of hand stitched costumes aside, Dawn and Xander still had things that needed their urgent attention. Whether they were in some strange reality TV show or not, there was still a dead Indian lying outside the door that needed to be buried before someone noticed.

“You go bury the Indian,” Dawn suggested in a quiet voice after she'd washed Xander's head wound and found that it didn't need a dressing, “I'll clear up in here and try to find us something to eat...you're hungry right?”

“I could eat,” Xander admitted as he turned towards the door, “just don't brain anyone else while I'm gone, okay?”

“Okay, promise,” Dawn replied as she watched Xander leave the room.

0=0=0=0

Standing outside in the warm sunshine (the day had turned out bright and warm after the previous night's storm) and glancing up at the sun Xander guessed it was still fairly early in the morning. Looking down at the dead Indian, he realised that Dawn must have dragged him outside and left him lying on the doorstep. He gave a low whistle when he saw the Indian's injuries, Dawn had really done a number on him and Xander made two mental notes to himself. First, Dawn was stronger than she looked; not only had she beaten the guy to death with a skillet but she'd dragged him outside. Secondly; never, ever, get Dawn pissed at you when she had a frying pan in her hand.

Crouching down, Xander examined the Indian's body for a moment. The guy was old, but looked surprisingly healthy considering he'd had his skull caved in by Dawn's pan. He could also see why Dawn had reacted the way she had. The Indian wasn't the most handsome of guys and then add in the 'war paint' he was wearing plus the effects of the thunder and lightening, Dawn must have been scared out of her mind. Add in Dawn's history of being kidnapped by all manner of weird creatures, to be honest he was surprised that Dawn hadn't gone 'postal' before.

Standing up again, Xander had another thought, it would probably be best if he treated Dawn like sweating dynamite; at least for the time being. In the situation they were in now (whatever that might be) she might explode at any minute. Looking around Xander tried to decide where to bury the body. Turning around he saw that there was a track about twenty feet away and on the other side of the track was a wood of closely spaced pine trees. To his right the track disappeared amongst the trees and to his left there was a hay field dotted with tree stumps.

“Looks like the trees for you Chief,” Xander told the corpse.

Grabbing hold of the Indian's arms, Xander started to drag him towards the woods. It would just be his luck for the local cops to take it into their heads to do a drive by.

0=0=0=0

Inside the cabin, Dawn collected up the bedding and took it back upstairs. Dumping the quilts and blankets on the bed she told herself she'd fold them up later. Coming back down into the main part of the cabin she picked up the still wet clothes from the floor. Remembering seeing a clothes line behind the house, Dawn went out into the back yard through the door in the scullery. Hanging out the clothes to dry, she once again heard the cow lowing behind her.

“What's your problem,” Dawn turned to the cow as she spoke; walking over to the fence behind which the cow stood and 'moo-ed' at her, Dawn saw what the problem was, “How the hell do you milk a cow?”

Deciding it couldn't be _that_ difficult, she went in search of a bucket. Some time later after having her foot trampled on by the cow and her bucket knocked over and stood in my the bovine monster, Dawn had about an inch of milk in the bottom of her bucket. Looking at the warm, white liquid, she decided that it was probably safe to drink or at least put into coffee. The cow wasn't complaining so much now so Dawn left her to her own devices and headed back into the cabin, she had breakfast to cook.

Dawn Summers wasn't noted from her culinary expertise, her anchovy and banana pizza was still talked about with a mixture of fear and loathing. But if a guy was burying the body of the Indian you'd beaten to death with a skillet the night before, the least a girl could do was to make him breakfast. Once again, making breakfast' proved harder to do than to say, much like the phrase 'milk the cow'. It took Dawn over half an hour to cook bacon, eggs (luckily the chickens gave up their eggs without a fight) fried potatoes and tea (there was no coffee that she could find) all of it swimming in a layer of fat (except for the tea that is). Looking at her morning offering Dawn almost threw it all away and started again, she could feel her arteries hardening as she looked at the meal she'd made.

“Whatever,” she shrugged and sighed before heading over to the door, opening the front door she yelled, “XANDER! Breakfast's ready, come an' get it before it congeals!”

0=0=0=0

Digging graves and burying things was an unexpected skill set born of Xander's close association with 'The Slayer' over the last six or seven years. He'd picked a secluded spot, got a shovel from the barn and then set about digging a six foot by three foot deep hole in the sandy soil. He didn't have time to go any deeper, once buried he could come back later and maybe put some stones on the Indian's grave to stop any wild animals from digging him up again, or possibly stopping the Indian from rising from his grave, either was a possibility as far as Xander was concerned. Standing over the carefully levelled grave, Xander looked down at the disturbed earth and felt the urge to say something.

“Look, Indian-guy,” Xander began, “if you didn't mean Dawnie any harm I'm real sorry that she killed you. If on the other hand you meant to kidnap her or hurt her you got everything you deserved. Either way ya shoulda knocked before coming in...Amen.”

Picking up his shovel Xander made his way back towards the cabin just as he heard Dawn's call for breakfast.

0=0=0=0

“In future,” Xander said as he finished eating his breakfast, “it might be better if you leave the cooking to me.”

“You can cook!?” Dawn sounded shocked.

“Yep,” Xander replied as he put down his knife and fork, “You never tried my mom's cooking did you?”

“No,” Dawn shook her head, although she knew she'd not actually been there, she had vivid memories of her mom not letting her go over to Xander's house, she could only guess why.

“Look in my house learning to cook was a survival tactic,” Xander explained, “and I used to cook for Anya.”

“Okay,” Dawn smiled relieved to be free of having to cook, “but I'll do other stuff, like I'll keep the place clean and I think I can look after the vegetable garden out back.”

“Vegetable garden?” Xander queried.

“Yeah,” Dawn replied with a smile, “I know they're false but I totally have some memories of doing something like that at school when I was little, the memories stuck so...an' oh yeah, I think I've worked out how to milk the cow!”

“Cow?” Xander looked at Dawn as if she was insane, “What cow?”

“The cow out back,” Dawn explained without really explaining, “I think the trick is to stop her from moving around while you're trying to milk her...”

“O-kay,” Xander stretched the word, “you're sounding as if we're going to be here for some time.”

“I haven't seen any magic portals with signs saying, 'Sunnydale this way' on them,” Dawn pointed out.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head slowly, “that track out front isn't exactly buzzin' with traffic and its gotta be the morning rush by now!”

“So I'm thinking,” Dawn began slowly, “if we act like we're here for the long haul what have we got to lose?”

“Not a lot,” Xander agreed, “maybe a few blisters...”

“Exactly,” Dawn grinned, “an' its gotta be better than the alternative.”

“The alternative?”

“Yeah the one were we starve to death because we used up all our supplies waiting to be rescued,” Dawn pointed out.

“Ah, the Donner Party option,” Xander nodded wisely.

“And remember I totally get to eat you first!”

“Why?”

“Ladies first!”

“Hey, but surly that means I get to eat you,” Xander pointed out with a laugh, “like 'eat the ladies first'!”

“Whatever,” Dawn shrugged not noticing the double meanings flying across the table, “lets try and make sure it doesn't come to that.”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Xander asked as he stood, collected up the dirty plates and took them out to the scullery.

“Its better than what was likely to happen in Sunnydale,” Dawn replied soberly as she followed, “If Buffy wanted me out of the way she must have been expecting things to go badly wrong.”

“Like we all end up dead, huh?”

“Uh-huh...”

A long silence fell over the young couple as they tried to imagine what was happening back in Sunnydale right now.

“Look,” Dawn broke the silence, “there's loads of things we need to do...”

“Like emptying out that cart,” Xander pointed out.

“And maybe find the instruction manual on how to wear these clothes,” Dawn grinned, “lets get moving, maybe I'll have another try at milking that freakin' cow!”

0=0=0=0

The young couple spent the rest of the day on a voyage of discovery as they emptied out the back of the wagon in the barn. They found more clothes, more pots and pans. A sack of coffee with a hand grinder for grinding the beans. There were some china plates, cups and saucers, tea pots, sugar bowls and all sorts of useless stuff. At least they'd be useless while they were still trying to work out how to survive in this new world. On a more practical note Xander found a box of woodworking tools and a musket with powder and shot to go with it. Dawn found a spinning wheel she didn't know how to use, but she seemed confident she could figure it out.

It took several trips to get everything inside the house, and the rest of the day to sort things out and put them away. At about midday, Xander made them lunch of cold, smoked bacon and more fried potatoes and eggs, he promised something better for the evening meal. In the afternoon they tried out some of the stuff they'd found in the barn including some of the clothes they'd taken from the wooden trunks. Dawn held up a dress which looked like it had been designed for 'Little Bow Peep'.

“Not very practical,” Xander observed.

“Hey,” Dawn complained, “I think its for best...shall I try it on?”

“Yeah sure, why not?” Xander shrugged, “You stay in here,” he picked up the musket, “while I go outside to see if I can get this thing to work.”

0=0=0=0

Standing out in front of the cabin, Xander turned the musket over in his hands. His 'soldier memories' had faded to almost nothing but they were telling him that an M16 was way easier to use than this contraption. Opening the bag containing his shot and powder, Xander found some paper cylinders containing what he suspected was gunpowder. Searching his mind for the time he'd watched 'Last of the Mohicans' at the movies and how they'd loaded their muskets he bit the end off the paper cartridge before poring the powder down the barrel. Taking a ball he rammed it down after the powder; the ball was a tight fit and it took him longer than he'd expected to get it seated on top of the powder.

Finally the ball was rammed home and he started to fumble with the lock at the breach end of the musket. Eventually after nearly trapping his fingers between the flint and the frizzen, Xander got the hammer to half cock, poured some fine powder from his powder horn into the priming pan and covered it with the frizzen, he pulled the flintlock back to full cock and got ready to fire. Setting the musket firmly into his shoulder, he sighted along the barrel at a tree about fifty yards away and fired.

There was a loud click, followed by a flash, followed by a cloud of white smoke, followed by a 'BANG!' as the musket slammed into his shoulder making him cry out in surprise. Taking wild swipes at all the powder smoke, Xander dropped the butt of the musket to rest on the ground and looked down range. Much to his surprise he saw he'd hit his target. Feeling justifiably proud of his first effort, Xander realised he'd need more practice, particularly with the loading sequence but... Just as he was about to try another shot, Dawn burst from the cabin demanding to know what all the noise was about. 

“Hey, Dawnie,” Xander looked Dawn up and down, she was sorta half wearing the fancy dress, “you look...” he struggled for the right thing to say, “...nice.”

“No I don't,” Dawn sulked, “there's no zippers and its all laces and stuff and if I ever wear this again you'll have to lace me into it...”

Just for a moment, Xander's mind wandered off to a place where he was helping Dawn into her dress and by extension, out of it again. Mentally slapping himself about the face for thinking the thoughts he'd almost thought he followed Dawn back into the cabin. Musket practice could wait for another day.

0=0=0=0

True to his word Xander cooked something better than fried bacon and potatoes for their supper. After eating they sat by the fire discussing their plans for the next day until Dawn yawned hugely.

“Yeah, I'm tired too,” Xander admitted, “you take the bed I'll sleep down here.”

“Where?” Dawn demanded, “On the floor or in one of these totally uncomfortable chairs?”

“I'll manage,” Xander sighed; he really didn't want to sleep on the floor but the only bed available would have Dawn in it and sleeping with Dawn was not a road he really wanted to go down just now.

It wasn't that Dawn wasn't pretty, she was and that was the problem; Dawn was _very_ pretty; she was also the kid sister of his best friend and he'd baby sat her when she was younger. Going to bed with her would be just so _wrong_ in so many ways.

“Look you'll sleep in the bed with with me, I'm not going to argue about this,” Dawn pointed out.

“What would Buffy say,” or do, Xander added to himself.

“Buffy's not here and I won't tell if you don't,” Dawn explained.

“But...” Xander searched for an argument that meant he wouldn't be tempted by having to sleep with his bestfriend's little sister, “...but, it wouldn't be right!”

“Not _right_ , huh?” Dawn asked; she turned and picked up a large book before placing on the table between herself and Xander. “Not right, right?” she repeated as she opened the book and turned it so Xander could see.

Peering at the book in the candle light, Xander saw that it was one of those big family bibles you saw in museums, only this one was pretty new. Dawn was tapping her finger above a couple of lines of hand written lettering.

“Read what that says,” she ordered.

Reading, Xander saw what it said and gulped loudly.

“It says,” Dawn read the words out although Xander was pretty sure she'd memorised them, “'Alexander Harris' and 'Dawn Harris, nee Summers', 1775.” Dawn snapped the book shut making Xander jump a little, “We're married and no husband of mine is going to sleep on the floor!”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

“Dawn!” Xander called from the back door of the cabin, “When you've finished doing that can you help me in the hay field?”

“Totally,” Dawn called back; she was milking the cow, “I'm nearly finished here.”

It was just over two weeks since the night of the storm and Dawn and Xander had fallen into their new roles as frontier farmers after only a short period of adjustment. It had helped that Xander had found a book describing 'Scientific Farming Methods' in amongst 'their' belongings; at least the information the book contained was scientific for the time they appeared to be living in. However, there was still a small problem because the book assumed some fore knowledge. It was like coming to a subject half way through the course with no one willing to tell you the very basic things which were exactly what Dawn and Xander needed to know to survive.

The book, for instance, didn't tell Dawn how she was supposed to stop the cow from wandering off when she was trying to milk it. Being a bright young woman and after a few days of being stood on or having her bucket knocked over, Dawn came up with a solution that didn't involve tying the cow's feet together (and probably having the creature fall on top of her). It was easy really, all she had to do was give the monster something to eat while she milked it. Cows not being the brightest of creatures were easily distracted, so giving it something to chew on meant that Dawn could milk it safely without danger of being trampled or having her bucket kicked over.

Having got all the milk she could get out of the cow, Dawn picked up her bucket and put it safely to one side and released 'Betsy' the cow from the fence were she'd tied her. Picking up the bucket, Dawn headed for the cabin and the scullery. Betsy gave more than enough milk to supply her and Xander's daily needs, but with no refrigeration she couldn't keep it for much more than a day or so without it turning sour in the hot, humid weather. Once again Dawn told herself that she really needed to find out how to make butter and cheese.

After putting a damp cloth over the milk pail she washed her hands under the water pump. While she was doing this she noticed that she had a 'nice' crop of calluses developing. Say what you like about the farming life, it was hard work. Almost every night when she and Xander climbed into bed together they often just fell fast asleep, having to get up at dawn and doing hard physical work all day did that to a person. It was these thoughts about going to sleep with Xander in the same bed that gave Dawn pause for thought. They'd been playing the 'married couple' since Dawn had found the bible with their 'married' names in it.

Okay, Dawn might not be a genius like Willow, but she wasn't stupid either. What happened if Xander wanted to do more than 'play'? What happened if _she_ wanted to do more than play? After all as she was nearly seventeen now, she had her hopes and desires, plus she'd always liked Xander for as long as she could remember. Okay, yes, those were fake memories but they still felt real to her and like she'd just told herself she had her own desires (with a capital 'D') to think about. The thing was that just at the moment her 'desires' were mainly focused on one Xander Harris.

Trying not to think about what she wished Xander and herself would do in bed other than sleep, Dawn headed out the front door. In the few days after their arrival in what they'd discovered was 1776, they'd found that the track that ran in front of their cabin was quite busy. Sometimes they'd get as many as four or five people passing by a day. These travellers were often happy enough to stop for a cup of cool water from the Harris' well and exchange news and other information. Like; a passer-by had commented that they were leaving cutting the hay field a little late in the season. The next day Xander found a scythe, sharpened it and started to cut the hay. This is what he wanted Dawn to help him with. While he cut, Dawn followed behind him and used a big heavy wooden rake to spread out the hay so it would dry in the sun, they'd need the hay to feed Betsy and the horse during the winter.

They'd been working in silence for some time before Dawn noticed that Xander had stopped mowing and had gone over to stand by the fence that separated the field from the area around the cabin. He seemed to be just standing there staring blankly into the distance. Curious to find out what he was thinking about, Dawn put down her rake and went over to stand beside him.

“What's up?” Dawn asked simply; for a moment Xander didn't answer he just turned to look at her, eventually he gave a heavy sigh before speaking.

“I'm not a farmer, Dawnie and its no good pretending I am,” he replied tiredly, “and this is no life for you, up at dawn every day and working until sundown...you should be at school or out with your friends...”

“I've totally got about my best friend right here with me,” Dawn replied unsure why she'd just said that; okay she'd had a crush on Xander for most of her life but...but, was this life really as bad as Xander was painting it?

“That's nice of you to say,” Xander smiled down at her, “but this isn't the life for us, we need stuff.”

“Like?” Dawn found herself stepping up close to her 'husband', and putting her arm around his waste before resting her head against his shoulder.

“Like...” Xander slipped his arm around Dawn and pulled her closer, “...like what happens when the winter comes?”

“You think we'll be here that long?” Dawn found herself turning to face Xander and looking up into his eye.

“I think we're here for the long term, Dawnie,” Xander confided, “I think if Willow could have found us we'd be home by now.”

“So you think we'll be here like forever?” Dawn rested her head against Xander's chest again and listened to his heart beating and wondered if it was beating for her.

“Like you said,” Xander's arms moved to surround Dawn protectively, “I've not seen any magic portals or signs saying 'Future Sunnydale This Way!', I think we're stuck here...”

“So,” Dawn wondered if this was the opening she'd been looking for; did she even want an opening to develop? “you think that _this_ is it for the rest of our lives?”

“Yep,” Xander nodded, “that and a front row seat to a birth of a nation...there's a revolution about to happen, 1776 an'all.”

“Xander Harris,” Dawn giggled, “knowledge guy...”

Lifting her face to Xander's, Dawn stood up on tip-toe so as to bring her lips into kissing range of his. This seemed to be the moment when their relationship was about to change because Xander appeared to be moving in to kiss her when he suddenly went all stiff...but not in a fun way. Frozen in some sort of pre-kiss tableau Dawn instinctively knew what was wrong.

“BUFFY!” Dawn cried angrily as she stepped away from Xander and stamped her foot and clenched her fists in anger.

“Buffy!?” Xander cried in alarm, “Where?” he added as he searched his surroundings with a panicked eye.

“Yes Buffy!” Dawn snapped, “When will I ever be free of her? I know exactly what you're thinking...”

“You do?” Xander stared at Dawn thinking how she had more than her fair share of the 'Summers' temper'.

“Yes I do!” Dawn stepped back towards Xander who immediately stepped one pace away from her, “You're thinking, what would Buffy do or say if she found you kissing me!?”

“I was?” Xander corrected himself, “I mean, I was...”

“There you like totally admit it!” Dawn pointed an accusing finger at Xander, “Like, news flash, Xander Levalle Harris...I'm totally here and Buffy isn't and another thing I'm your wife,” Dawn brandished her finger with the wedding band on it in front of his stunned eye, “it says so in that bible we found...now I totally want you to start treating me like your...your wife and stop thinking about Buffy all the time.”

Taking a resolute step forward, Dawn threw her arms around Xander's neck determined to kiss him like she'd never kissed anyone before. Instinctively Xander began to take a step back trying to keep his distance from the determined girl. Unfortunately the field had been improperly cleared and he caught his heel on an old tree root. As he fell he brought Dawn down on top of him. Lying in the uncut hay, Xander found himself being kissed, not particularly expertly but with a lot of enthusiasm and then he found himself kissing Dawn right back. This time, after he'd rolled Dawn over on to her back, he went stiff in a fun way.

xXx

Not fifty yards away from where Dawn and Xander consummated their new relationship, Lieutenant William Cunningham, late of His Majesty's Sixteenth Light Dragoons, watched from under the trees. As he was on detached duty under Colonel Caldwell who's job it was to raise the native tribes against the American rebels, he wore a buckskin shirt and black tricorn hat instead of his usual red jacket so he was not easily spotted.

“Disgusting,” Cunningham sneered as he watched the couple despite himself, “rutting like animals in the field,” a moment later Cunningham found himself chuckling quietly as he remembered he'd done more than a little 'rutting in the field' in his time.

He couldn't help admiring the way the one eyed 'Yankee' laid on with a will, his woman was certainly enjoying herself if her cries were anything to go by. Stepping back and leaving the two Americans to their 'sport'. Cunningham moved quickly and quietly back to where his horse was tethered. Mounting up he turned his horse's head towards the fort at German Flats. His job was to scout out the area and get some idea of the numbers of militia the Americans could raise to face the tribes Caldwell planned to use to sweep the valley clean of insurrection.

As he rode on towards German Flats, Cunningham couldn't help but feel conflicted about the war that had started only a few months ago. On the one hand he rather admired the American colonists as they cut a living from the virgin forests. They faced dangers from all quarters including the possibility of being killed and scalped by hostile Indians. On the other hand they refused to pay their taxes and had started this foolish business of 'No taxation without representation'. This was plainly idiotic, most of the population at home didn't have a vote and yet they paid _their_ taxes without complaint. Why should mere colonials have more rights that the population of Britain? Hadn't Britain saved the colonies from the French menace? Wasn't it only fair that the colonists should help pay for the war and the British garrison that protected them from further strife? Or did they want to live under the autocratic rule of the French king? Did they want to give up the just, lawful rule of King George and his elected ministers and parliament? He didn't know, he was just a soldier with a job to do so he better get on and do it.

xXx

“Wow,” Dawn murmured to herself as she lay under Xander, “that was like...” Dawn was lost for words; Anya had been right, she'd told a curious Dawn stuff about sex that would have made Buffy's toes curl if she'd found out; it was true what the ex-demon had said, Xander Harris was a man who knew how to give a girl orgasms...lots of orgasms, “...like...wow!”

“You okay Dawnie?” Xander sounded concerned, guilty even, “I'm sorry I didn't mean to...”

“If that's what its like when you didn't mean to to...” Dawn gasped, “...I can't wait to totally find out what its like when you do mean to!”

“You're...you're okay with, you know...'it'?”

“Of course I'm okay with 'it' dufus!” Dawn giggled, “Now stop looking all guilty and get off me I've got twigs and grass where I really don't want twigs an' grass.”

“Oh,” Xander rolled off Dawn and started to rearrange his clothing while Dawn pushed down her skirts.

It was only as Xander helped Dawn back to her feet that she started to think about the consequences of what had just happened. Of course she'd sorta wanted it to happen, but it had all happened so quickly...not that Xander had been too quick, no she'd got no complaints there. But what if she was pregnant? What if she got pregnant, she was sure they'd do it again (hopefully somewhere more comfortable than the hay field and sooner rather than later). But, there was no birth control in this time, at least none that she knew of, so it was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Come on,” Xander's voice broke into Dawn's thoughts, “we've still got all this hay to cut...”

xXx

A couple of days later it was Sunday and Dawn and Xander went to the fort at German Flats as they both thought it was about time they met their neighbours. Plus Xander was wanted for training with the militia company based at the fort. They'd been informed of the 'muster' by one of their infrequent passers-by. So, after an early rise and after milking the cow and having breakfast, Dawn changed into her Sunday best (the 'bow-peep' dress she'd found when they'd first arrived) and Xander dressed in what he thought was suitable for drilling with the militia.

The air was still cool when they set off on foot for the fort, Xander with his musket over his shoulder and Dawn with a parasol over hers. It was almost three miles to German flats but they made it there in just under an hour. The fort looked like something out of one of Dawn's history books or one of those living history places you got out east. The fort was built on a gentle slope in the middle of a large open area that was surrounded by deep, dark woods. There was a river that flowed past the fort and into a big pool, before it meandered off into the woods again.

The fort was built mainly out of great logs cut from the surrounding forest. However there was a stone built chapel and parts of the fort's walls stood on stone foundations. As they got closer to the fort men and women started to call greetings to them. They called Xander, Alexander and called Dawn, 'Mrs Harris' and the men touched their hats to her as she walked by. Not only were they being greeted by the men folk but the women also took a great deal of interest in Dawn and the dress she was wearing, in fact they were so interested that they followed Dawn and Xander into the fort.

“This is weird,” Dawn whispered as they walked into the fort through the main gate, “everyone totally knows us, or you.”

“By this time Dawnie,” Xander squeezed her hand affectionately, “I'm just so overloaded with the weirdness that it doesn't bother me any more!”

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

5.

By the time Dawn and Xander had reached the door to the big, stone built chapel it was obvious to her that just about everyone knew Xander and she couldn't help wondering how. The best answer she could come up with was that Xander must look like someone who belonged in this time. This idea brought up two more questions; first, where was the person that Xander had 'replaced'? Secondly, had she replaced the 'real' Dawn Harris and if so, what had happened to her? The answers to these questions would have to wait until later as they'd now arrived at the chapel's door. Stepping into the building all eyes turned to the newcomers and Dawn found herself wondering if the women waiting in the chapel could tell that Xander and herself had stopped off for sex on their way to church? He'd assured her that there was no dirt or grass on her dress but she still turned to check, just to be sure.

“General Herkimer,” Xander advanced to shake the hand of a short, round, grey haired man in his fifties, he wore a military style suit of clothes in blue-grey and he had a slim officer's sword hanging from his cross belt.

“Hello Alexander,” the general pumped Xander's hand enthusiastically.

“This is my wife Dawn,” Xander turned to introduce Dawn while at the same time giving her a look that told her he had absolutely no idea where he'd got the general's name from. 

Dawn had her own problems as she now found herself curtsying to the old general, she'd never curtsied to anyone before in her life! In fact she knew damn well that she didn't know _how_ to curtsy, so how come she was doing it now?

“Ja, ja,” the general smiled as he looked Dawn up and down appreciatively, “she's as pretty as the near side of a peach...”

Dawn felt herself start to blush bright red, she tried to hide her embarrassment by dropping her head so the brim of her hat covered her face.

“...maybe prettier,” with a wink and a smile the old general excused himself before turning away and walking off to talk to someone on the other side of the room.

“Dawn,” Xander turned to face the delegation of local women who seemed _really_ anxious to talk to her, “this is Mrs Weaver...”

Once again Xander gave Dawn a look that told her he had no idea where he was getting all this information from.

“I'm your nearest neighbour,” Mrs Weaver, an older woman in a white apron and blue shawl, explained as she shook Dawn's hand, “I've been meaning to call, me an' George and John my boy.”

Mrs Weaver gestured to a tall, strapping young man in buckskins who leant on his musket as a pretty, teenage girl smiled up at him adoringly.

“How-do, Mrs Harris,” the young man smiled and nodded his head in Dawn's direction.

“And this is Mrs Real, Christian's wife and their daughter Marcel,” once again the information seemed to just flow into Xander's mind.

Mrs Real was a tiny woman in her late fifties, Marcel was another pretty girl of about Dawn's age. Despite her size, Mrs Real had a grip like a vice that almost made Dawn cry put as she shook her hand.

“And this is my oldest girl, Mary,” Mrs Real introduced another pretty, dark haired young woman in a blue dress and black bonnet, this daughter looked like she was slightly older than Dawn.

“And Mrs Demooth,” Xander introduced yet another woman in a light blue dress and a superior attitude.

“My husband is the Captain,” Mrs Demooth gestured to a man sitting at a small desk on the other side of the chapel, who had to be Mr or Captain Demooth.

Dawn got Mrs Demooth's number straight away, she was obviously the settlement's 'Cordelia Chase'. Captain Demooth seemed nice enough however, he stood up behind his desk and saluted Dawn as he wished her welcome. Finally Xander turned to a stern, grey haired man in a black suit who was examining some disgustingly fit looking young men who all had their shirts off.

“And this is Doctor Petry,” this time when Xander introduced someone he'd never met before in his life he just shrugged at Dawn resignedly.

After greeting Dawn the Doctor turned back to one of the shirtless young man and rapped him on the chest with his fist as if he was knocking on a door.

“Ooooh, pass the lot of them,” the Doctor almost sounded disappointed that he couldn't 'fail' someone.

Back over at the desk, Captain Demooth flicked through the pages of a small book while a tall man in a buckskin jacket and a black hat with a green sprig of vegetation in it looked over his shoulder and pointed urgently at the book, obviously he'd seen something important.

“Erm...” said the captain uncertainly before coming to a decision, “...fall in...outside!”

“You heard the Captain!” cried the man who'd been doing the pointing as he lead the way outside.

Dawn watched as all the men in the room, including Xander, made for the door, however the old General stopped to talk to Dawn once more.

“Don't you be afraid of these vimen, Mrs Harris,” the general advised in his accented English, “you'll find they're good neighbours...” the general grinned, “...once they get over being mad at you for being so pretty...”

Dawn felt herself start to blush again, no one had ever really complimented her on her looks before, she'd always been in Buffy's shadow; Buffy was blonde, pretty and had superpowers, who was going to look at plain, old Dawnie? While Dawn was trying hard not to melt from all the blushing she was doing, the women around her vehemently denied that they were in any way 'mad' at Dawn for being pretty.

“That bonnet you've got on is giving them a lot of worry,” claimed the general, “and they're dying to show us men off, so they can find out if you and Alexander have got a family on the vay!”

“NO!” Dawn squeaked in surprise before she could stop herself, “At least I don't think so...”

Dawn looked pleadingly at Xander hoping he'd say it was time for them to go; but he didn't, he just shook his head and looked heavenwards. As the general led Xander and Captain Demooth towards the door, Doctor Petry came over and peered intently into Dawn's eyes as he took hold of her wrist to check her pulse.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered abruptly; Dawn did as she was told only to hear the doctor's sigh of disappointment, “Disgustingly healthy,” complained the doctor, “you'll have no trouble conceiving my dear.”

Once again Dawn felt her cheeks burn like hot coals as the doctor followed the other men outside. Once all the men folk had gone outside and most of the women had followed them, Dawn found herself more or less alone with Mrs Weaver, she seemed like a nice woman, so Dawn felt comfortable asking her for a favour.

“Mrs Weaver,” Dawn turned to the older woman, “you said you're like our closest neighbour?”

“That's right, my dear,” Mrs Weaver nodded at Dawn inviting her to continue.

“I was sorta, kinda wondering if you could come over and teach me stuff or I could come to you...”

“'Stuff'?” Mrs Weaver asked her interest piqued.

“Look,” Dawn began breathlessly as she tried to think up a believable tale to tell, “I need to know things...I mean at home we had like servants to do everything, I can cook a little but Xander's a better cook than I am...”

“Xander?”

“Alexander,” Dawn explained.

“I see,” Mrs Weaver said slowly; to be honest Dawn wasn't sure what it was Mrs Weaver saw in her, but at least she hadn't turned her down flat, “you want to be a good wife, but your mother only prepared you for a life with servants and big houses...not a life on the frontier?”

“Like, totally,” Dawn agreed earnestly; it was quite true, her mother hadn't equipped her for a life on the frontier in 1776.

“Well, I don't see why not,” Mrs Weaver mused, “one of my girls can look after things at home...when would you like to start?”

“Soon...” Dawn replied relieved, “...you're like, totally great Mrs Weaver, thank-you.”

“Call me Jessie,” Mrs Weaver told Dawn, “we've all been put on this Earth to help each other out is what I say, now lets go watch the men at their drilling.”

xXx

Outside the fort on an area of flat ground the men of the German Flats militia (which now included Xander) stood in untidy ranks. From where Dawn was standing next to Mrs Weaver, she couldn't help thinking that they didn't look very 'military'. To be honest Dawn hadn't paid very much attention to things military even when Buffy had been dating Riley Finn. But she had seen things on TV and she sort of knew that soldiers tended to stand up in straight lines when they weren't fighting. No way could anything the German Flats militia were doing right now could be described as 'straight', some of the men were even sitting on the ground!

“Fall in!” called the Captain.

“Fall in what?” replied an anonymous voice from the heart of the militia rabble, this comment elicited a ripple of laughter from what could charitably be called 'the ranks'. 

“Attention,” Captain Demooth called as he held his sword in one hand and his book of instructions in the other, “dress to the right,” he added with a flourish of his sword and the militia shuffled into two, more or less straight ranks.

“That's my husband,” Mrs Demooth turned to give Dawn a superior look; Dawn turned away to hide her snigger as she saw Mrs Weaver and Mrs Real both roll their eyes like teenagers.

“Call the roll,” Captain Demooth told a short fat man in an off-white shirt and brown waistcoat; Dawn had noticed that no one other than the general was wearing a uniform and only Xander was wearing a blue jacket, the traditional colour of the American Army.

After Christian Real had called out a dozen names, most of which had been answered by someone shouting 'Here!', General Herkimer called for an end to the roll calling.

“Stand at ease men,” called the general; to Dawn it looked like the men were already standing at ease. 

Dawn wondered how these people had beaten the British. The only answer she could come up with was that the British had been laughing so hard they couldn't hold their guns steady!

“Neighbours,” the general called, he was obviously going to start giving a speech, “Ever since the twelve colonies signed the declaration of independence this revolution has turned into a real war...”

“Well, duh,” Dawn said under her breath.

“...so far we've been lucky up here,” the general continued, “but it looks like we're going to have to fight sooner rather than later, that's why I got you here to get ready. This is our homes and land, I think its worth fighting for only we've got to do it by ourselves, Congress can't spare any troops to help, they say Washington needs all the soldiers he can get to fight the British. The frontier will have to look out for itself.”

Thinking about what the general had just said, Dawn couldn't really see any reason for the war to come to the Mohawk valley, after all there were only farms up here nothing important.

“Now about the Indians,” Dawn stopped her musings and listened intently to what the general had to say on this subject, “from what I hear the Tory's are making them a lot of big promises. Ve got our agents virking too but, there's no telling vich vay they'll go...”

“I don't think we'll have any trouble with our Indians,” said a voice from the 'ranks', “we've always treated them right.”

“Yeah,” Dawn said to herself softly, “stealing their land, selling them rot-gut whiskey and buying them off with glass beads and old, flee infested blankets...yeah the Indians are going to be like our bestest buds...”

“What was that?” Mrs Demooth asked.

“Oh nothing,” Dawn replied innocently; she frowned as she remembered something else from her history lessons about the Revolution, hadn't the British promised the Indians that there'd be no more western expansion of the colonies? Even if the British had been lying a promise like that was bound to make the local Indians look more favourably on the British than the land-hungry Americans.

“Sure,” the general said determinedly, “but just the same if you hear the bell, you drop everything and come a running! Do you understand? All of you, come running, or I'll have you flogged so fast you von't know vot!”

For the first time that day, the general's words made Dawn realise that this wasn't a game, an adventure in a book or on TV, this was _deadly_ serious.

“Now,” Herkimer said in a quieter voice, “go show the vimen how good you can drill.” he turned to look at Captain Demooth, “Take them around the field, Captain.”

“Don't look so worried,” Mrs Weaver said quietly as she came to stand close to Dawn.

“I'm not exactly worried...” Dawn tried to explain, “...well, I am like worried, I mean what if Xander gets hurt?”

“Oh you mustn't think like that,” Mrs Weaver explained, “I'm sure we'll be alright all the way out here.”

“Yeah, sure...” Dawn tried not to sound worried as she watched the militia march around the field, but she now seemed to remember reading that it was the isolated outposts that were the first to get wiped out in wars.

xXx

Two hundred yards away, concealed in the woods that surrounded the fort, Lieutenant William Cunningham watched through his telescope and chuckled at the antics of the American militia. The America's had been useless against the French in the last war and by the looks of things these, at least, would be useless if any British regulars came to the valley. But he knew that was unlikely to happen, the war would have to be fought using native irregulars plus a few British officers of the more adventurous and unconventional type.

Doing a quick count of the militia now they were marching around the field (no doubt showing off their marching ability to their women) Cunningham saw that there were about sixty militia in the company at German Flats. Add that to the numbers of other local militias and he got a total of around eight or nine hundred men. Normally that would be a formidable force out here on the frontier. But the Americans had no proper muskets, yes they all had long rifles, but they were too slow to load in a proper battle and they didn't have bayonets. He noted that the American general, Washington, had got rid of all but a few of these long rifles as soon as he could get enough French muskets and bayonets to equip his 'Continentals'.

Looking through his telescope again, the British officer smiled when he recognised the one eyed American farmer he'd seen enjoying his wife in their field a few days ago. He wondered if the pretty young woman was present, he ran his glass over the crowd of watching women but he couldn't see her. The thought of the pretty young farmer's wife made Cunningham pause for a moment. He'd better talk to the Colonel about stopping the Indians from harming the local white women. Letting the Indians have their way with the American women was not only 'bad' it would probably be counter productive and stiffen American resistance.

He was also an officer and gentleman, he'd been brought up to try and protect women (at least the better class of women) from the horrors of military action. These people might be rebels but they were still 'civilised' and should therefore be protected from the rigours of war, especially war as was practised by His Majesties Indian Allies. Having seen everything he wanted, Cunningham moved carefully away from the treeline to find his horse and ride back and report on what he'd seen to Colonel Caldwell.

xXx


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**The Following Tuesday after Church.**

It had to be nearly six-thirty and Xander and Dawn were still in bed; Dawn sighed contentedly as she snuggled up next to Xander, they'd just finished having sex so Dawn was feeling particularly relaxed and satisfied. Anya might have been a cold bloodied, blood-soaked, ex-vengeance demon, but she hadn't been lying about Xander's prowess in bed. Sighing again, Dawn laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat.

“I've been thinking,” Dawn said as she shifted position so she could look into her _husband's_ face; now there was something she'd not expected to do for quite a few years yet.

“That's one of the things I like about you, Dawnie,” Xander replied sleepily, “you thinkin'.”

“You do!?” Dawn cried just a little bit surprised.

“Oh yeah,” Xander shifted a little so he could put his arm around Dawn's naked shoulder, “I mean Buffy hardly used to think at all.”

“She didn't....wow!” Dawn felt her heart swell with pride; she was a better thinker than Buffy, a thought entered her mind and she frowned a little, “Hey I thought she thought all the time...”

“Oh don't get me wrong,” Xander squeezed Dawn's shoulder affectionately, “she used to think about slaying the monsters and big bads, but other stuff not so much.”

“Cool...” Dawn grinned, before she turned her head and kissed Xander's lips as she squirmed provocatively against his body.

“So...” Xander took a deep breath as he tried to resist the urge of rolling Dawn onto her back and making love to her again; he wasn't quite ready yet so instead he asked, “...what were you thinking about?”

“What?” for a moment Dawn couldn't remember what she'd been talking about, then it came back to her in a flash, “Oh yeah...” Dawn took a breath which gave her time to order her thoughts, “...you know when we were at the fort and you totally knew everyone and they knew you...?”

“Yeah, the world of the weird and wacky just gets weirder and wackier,” Xander nodded.

“Yeah, right, like I've been thinking about that,” Dawn let her fingers play with Xander's chest hairs, “what if we totally replaced the real Alexander and Dawn Harris.”

“I get it,” Xander nodded, “like when we got transported here the universe changed so we were the Alexander and Dawn that live in this time and place.”

“Could be,” Dawn nodded her head against Xander's chest, “I mean it explains why everyone knows us...”

“Two things...”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happened to the people who should be here and who made it happen?”

“Oh yeah,” Dawn's thoughts hadn't gone that far yet, “maybe they totally got transported to our time...”

“Now that's an unpleasant thought,” Xander mused as he imagined what would happen to a couple from 1775 in 2003; for a start past-Xander could be arrested for making love to his seventeen year old bride.

“Perhaps it was the First,” Dawn said quietly.

“The First?” Xander raised his head to look around the cabin just in case there were any dead people around, there weren't so he let his head fall back onto his pillow.

“Yeah,” Dawn replied as she reached between Xander's legs and started to stroke his penis, “perhaps he totally wanted us like out of the way...” she felt Xander's member grow hard at her gently urging, “...so,” she breathed huskily, “lets not talk about this...huh?”

“Hey,” Xander chuckled as he rolled Dawn on to her back, “you're the one who brought it up...”

“Talking about up...” Dawn sighed just as Xander kissed her, “...oh boy...” she gasped as Xander slid into her, Dawn moaned as she surrendered to her passions.

xXx

Out in the woods only a couple of miles from Dawn and Xander's cabin, Lieutenant Cunningham turned to survey his forces. As usual Colonel Caldwell wasn't here, William was beginning to think how odd it was that he only ever saw the Colonel at night. However, that wasn't important right now. What was important was the fact that today they would start to sweep the Mohawk Valley clean of American Rebels. For this first action, Cunningham had about sixty Indian warriors, a couple of white trappers to help translate and a dozen Loyalist Rangers. 

News had reached the Crown forces that a group of rebels would be helping one of their neighbours clear more land. This would mean there'd be militia and no doubt some of their families around one of the small farms near German Flats. Unfortunately, Cunningham had discovered it was the farm belonging to the young couple he kept seeing and for some unaccountable reason, quite liked although he'd never spoken to them. Whatever his personal feelings Cunningham knew he'd have to put them to one side, he had his duty...'King and Country' and all that. Giving the signal, Cunningham lead his warband quietly through the forest towards the farm.

xXx

It was now early afternoon and there had to be a hundred people around the 'Harris Farm'. Of that hundred people about thirty were men who were actually helping Xander clear more land and up rooting old tree stumps. The other seventy or so were made up of wives and children, Dawn had been relieved to find out that she wasn't expected to feed them all; everyone had brought some food of their own and at around midday there'd been as sort of 'picnic' held out in the open air as everyone shared their food with their neighbours. After lunch it was straight back to work.

While Xander was out with the other men, Dawn was inside the cabin with Mrs Weaver, Mrs Real and Mrs Demooth. While Mrs Weaver and Mrs Real were showing Dawn how to use the spinning wheel that had been sitting in the corner of the room gathering dust for the last few weeks, Mrs Demooth drifted about the cabin making sneering remarks about Dawn and Xander's possessions.

“I see you've got one of these feathers,” Mrs Demooth called from over by the dresser in the corner of the room, she held a long brightly coloured tail feather in her hand.

“Yes, it a peacocks feather,” Dawn replied.

“We had a lot of them at home,” Mrs Demooth boasted, “but they collected so much dust we threw them away.”

Dawn took the feather from Mrs Demooth's hand, she liked the feather, it was pretty and she couldn't imagine wanting to throw it away. Glancing over to were the two older women worked, Dawn saw them tut silently and roll their eyes, obviously they weren't strangers to Mrs Demooth's sneering, boastful comments.

“This is a nice teapot,” Mrs Demooth took down Dawn's best teapot from the dresser and took off the lid before peering inside; Dawn didn't know what she expected to find...their life savings perhaps? “Is it Wedgwood?”

“I don't know,” Dawn shrugged as she wondered if it would be considered impolite to throw Mrs Demooth out the door, the woman's boastful comments were starting to annoy her, “it's just white china...”

“We always ate off Wedgwood at home,” Mrs Demooth continued in a superior tone.

Glancing over to Mrs Weaver and Mrs Real again, Dawn saw them both give Mrs Demooth daggers looks; Dawn smiled to herself, at least someone else shared her opinion of Mrs Demooth. Before the Captain's wife could poke her nose anywhere else it wasn't wanted, Christian Real burst into the cabin.

“Come on out” he called excitedly, “they've started the burning already!”

Immediately Mrs Weaver and Mrs Real got up from the spinning wheel and headed towards the door followed by Mrs Demooth. For a moment Dawn hesitated as she wondered about what or possibly who (didn't they still burn witches in the here and now?) they were burning. Following the women outside, Dawn saw that the men had built several large fires in which they were burning the logs and smaller branches from the trees they'd cut down. Looking around, Dawn caught sight of Xander and walked over to stand next to him.

“You guys totally cleared a lot more land,” she observed.

“Yeah,” Xander agreed as he slipped his arm around Dawn's shoulders, “but I don't know what we'll use it for...like I say I'm not a farmer...”

Before Dawn could think of a reply a musket shot came from the direction of the cabin. Turning with everyone else at the sound of the shot, Dawn saw a scout run around the cabin towards the crowd of settlers.

“It's John Big Tree!” someone cried as Dawn and Xander looked at each other and asked the silent question; who's John Big Tree?

Whoever he was a large crowd of people rushed towards him wanting to know why he'd fired a warning shot.

“Indians are on the warpath!” the tall Indian scout gasped as he struggled to catch his breath, it was obvious he'd been running for quite some time. “Coming this way,” he panted, “Many Tories and one-hundred Indians coming this way...burning everything...”

At this news Mrs Demooth screamed hysterically. Within seconds it was like some one had kicked an ant's nest around the Harris' cabin. People ran every which way as once again Dawn wondered how these people could have built a nation if they flew into a total panic at the news of a mere hundred Indians heading their way. To be honest Dawn didn't feel scared at the news; now if it had been a hundred demons, then she'd be frightened. Living in Sunnydale had obviously hardened her to none paranormal dangers. Standing near the fence that surrounded her cabin, Dawn watched as people slowly started to get themselves organised and Mrs Weaver slapped Mrs Demooth across the face to make her shut up. The sound of that stinging slap even made Dawn wince a little, but it made her smile a whole lot more.

“Thanks Joe,” Xander called to a man as he handed Xander his musket, “Adam look after Dawn for me...”

“No!” Dawn fought against Adam Hilmer's hand as he tried to pull her away from the cabin towards safety, “I want to stay!” Breaking free of Adam's hold she flung herself at Xander, “I'm not going anywhere without my husband!”

“You go too,” John Big Tree, who'd now caught his breath, told Xander, “there's too many of 'em, you'll be killed!”

“I can't leave my place,” Xander checked to see that his musket was properly loaded; some how he'd grown attached to this cabin in the wilderness, it was the first place he'd ever really thought of as a 'real' home.

“If you don't go I won't go without you,” Dawn exclaimed as she grabbed hold of Xander's shirt.

“Come on Alexander,” Adam took hold of Xander's arm, “you've gotta go there's too many to fight now...”

“But...” Xander looked from Dawn to Adam and John Big Tree, it wasn't in his nature to run from danger, he normally ran towards it, but today... “Okay,” Xander looked down at the musket in his hands and wished it was an M16. Then he'd be able to defend his home, “I'll get the horse and cart, Dawn you pack what you can...” It felt to Xander as if these were the hardest words he'd ever had to say.

“I'll help,” Adam volunteered as he picked up his musket and trotted towards the cabin.

xXx

Deep in the woods near Dawn and Xander's cabin, shadowy figures moved from tree to tree as they advanced on the farm. Stepping from behind a tree, William Cunningham looked between the trees, he could just see the barn from where he stood. In a very few minutes the buildings would be burning and a young American couple would be either dead or homeless. He hoped that the two American's who kept crossing his path would run to the fort with their friends, he had no desire to see them killed. Lifting a whistle to his lips he called the tribesmen forward.

xXx

By the time, Xander had hitched up the horse to the wagon, Dawn and Adam had managed to pack up some clothes and bedding plus a few of the more valuable possessions and were loading them onto the cart.

“Xander!” Dawn cried as she remembered something, “Betsy!?”

“Betsy?” asked Adam thinking there might still be someone left on the farm.

“Betsy the cow,” Dawn explained as she turned to go and look for the animal.

“No time!” Xander cried as he held on to Dawn's arm preventing her from running off, “We'll have to leave her she'd only slow us down.”

“Oooh,” Dawn moaned, she'd got just a little fond of the animal over the weeks.

xXx

On the other side of the farm from where Xander and Adam loaded up the wagon, Indian warriors vaulted over the fence surrounding the farm buildings. Silently they ran towards the cabin their minds filled with the thoughts of the loot they'd find and how well the building would burn.

xXx

“Come on Dawnie!” Xander called as he pulled Dawn up into the cart.

Adam had already gone to join the other men as they formed a rear guard to cover the women and children as they headed for the fort.

“Hurry up Alexander!” called Adam from further down the track where he stood with several other musket armed men.

Urging the horse into a gallop Xander drove away from the cabin. Watching the cabin as it got further away, Dawn felt like she was losing a part of herself. As she dashed away a tear that was rolling down her cheek she saw the first of the Indians appear around their home. As the first Indian kicked in her front door, Dawn lost any feelings of sympathy she might have held for the Indians. As she heard the first war whoops and saw the first wisps of smoke rise from her cabin as the natives set it afire, she wanted nothing more than to see them all dead. Bouncing along in the back of the cart, Dawn caught sight of a woman and a child running after them, they'd obviously been left behind in the confusion.

“Xander stop!” Dawn cried out as Xander pulled the horse to a halt, he turned around to see the woman and child running for their lives.

“Help them in,” Xander called as he readied his musket.

The two refugees were only a few yards away as Xander heard the first musket discharges and felt the wind of the first musket balls fly past his head. Looking towards the farm he saw flames start to appear from the barn and house. He cursed under his breath; he might not be much of a farmer but he'd tried to make a go of things, he'd really worked hard and he'd done most of it for Dawn's sake.

By now the woman was pushing her child up into the back of the wagon. Dawn grabbed hold of the boy and hauled him in next to her before turning to help the woman, it was Mrs Jackson as Dawn now recognised her. Just as Mrs Jackson was almost safe in the cart, Xander saw a warrior run along the track behind them and raise his musket to his shoulder to take aim. Bringing up his own weapon, Xander sighted and fired. There was a terrific explosion as the musket seemed to explode in his hands, however when the powder smoke had cleared the Indian lay dead or seriously wounded on the track.

Frightened by the sound of the gun shot the horse broke into a gallop and headed off down track towards the fort. Thrown off balance, Dawn fell to the floor of the wagon with Mrs Jackson landing heavily on top of her. Groaning in pain, Dawn lay on the floor of the wildly bouncing cart as they caught up with the rest of the settlers and the Indians closed in behind them.

xXx


	7. Chapter 7

7.

By the time Xander had driven the wagon into the fort someone had organised a rearguard to cover the last few refugees as they made their way to safety. Other militiamen fired from the walls but the Indians appeared disinclined to press any closer to the fort and seemed content to snipe ineffectually from the treeline. Bringing the wagon to a halt, Xander dropped the reins and turned to find out what was wrong with Dawn who was sill lying unconscious in the bed of the wagon.

Bending over her, Xander checked her pulse and breathing, both seemed regular and he couldn't see any obvious injury. Picking her up in his arms he swung her limp body over the side of the wagon and passed her down to Adam Helmer who'd rushed over to help as soon as he'd seen Xander bending over Dawn's still form. Jumping down from the wagon, Xander took Dawn from Adam's arms and headed towards the powder magazine which was situated in the centre of the fort's courtyard. The magazine had been slated for use as a shelter for the women and children in case of attack. Carrying Dawn down into the magazine, Xander was met by Mrs Weaver.

“What's wrong?” Mrs Weaver demanded as Xander carried Dawn through the doorway.

“I don't know,” Xander gasped, “she fell and fainted.”

“Never mind,” Mrs Weaver tried to sound reassuring, “she'll be alright now.”

While Xander and Mrs Weaver tried to make Dawn comfortable on a low ledge that normally held barrels of gunpowder, Mrs Demooth sat on the floor and sobbed hysterically about how they were all going to be killed and how she wanted her husband, 'The Captain'.

“Get out of here!” Mrs Weaver told Mrs Demooth angrily, “Get out before I use a strap on you!”

The threat had little effect and Mrs Demooth kept wailing and crying out for her husband. Turning to Adam, who'd been standing over by the door, Mrs Weaver told him to find Doctor Petry.

“I don't understand, she was fine then...” Xander stared down at Dawn, he couldn't understand why she wouldn't wake up, what was wrong with her, he kept asking himself. What if she was dying? What if it was something he'd done or not done? Perhaps if he'd started out from the farm straight away the woman he loved wouldn't be lying there dying while he stood around helplessly and watched. It was then, Xander realised that he really, truly, passionately loved Dawn. He took her hand in his, he'd never forgive himself if she died now.

“Never mind,” Mrs Weaver repeated, only this time there was real worry in her voice, “I'll look after her...”

“What's the matter in here?” demanded Doctor Petry as he hurried down the stairs into the magazine his doctor's bag held in his arms, “What happened?” he wanted to know as Mrs Weaver waved him over to look at Dawn, “More snivelling woman,” he cast and angry glance over at Mrs Demooth who was still wailing in the corner of the room.

“S-she fainted...” Xander tried to explain.

“Can't say I blame her with all this racket,” Petry leant over Dawn and felt her forehead, and checked her eyes and pulse.

“Alexander!” came a cry from outside, it was John Weaver, “Alexander Harris!” the young man rushed down the stairs into the magazine clutching his own and Xander's muskets, “They're waiting for you Alexander, the company's ready to go!”

Oh god, thought Xander, they wanted him to play soldier while Dawn lay unconscious and near death? He turned to look at the doctor.

“What is it, Doctor?” he asked knowing all the time that Dawn was dying.

“Nothing you can do anything about,” the doctor replied brusquely, he'd begun to loosen some of Dawn's clothing, “go on, get out of here.”

Reluctantly Xander followed John out into the courtyard, taking his musket and ammunition bag from the young man he ran up the stairs and stood for a moment torn between his duty to Dawn and his duty to his neighbours. After a moment he realised that the doctor was probably right there was nothing he could do here. But if he went with the company he'd be able to help protect not only Dawn but everyone else who had become friends to both himself and Dawn. With a heavy heart, Xander trotted over to where the militia company had formed up and took his place in the ranks next to Adam Helmer.

“How's Dawn?” Adam asked his habitual good humour dampened for the moment.

“The Doctor's with her,” Xander informed his friend, “he said there's nothing I could do if I stayed.”

“He's probably right,” Adam agreed, “its best that you're outta there an' let him work...he's a good Doc,” the frontiersman reassured Xander, “if anyone can save Dawn, Doc Petry can.”

Xander never got to make a reply because someone called the company to attention when they saw General Herkimer walk over to stand next to the drummer boy.

“Everything ready to move?” Herkimer asked Captain Demooth.

“Yes Sir,” Demooth replied as he saluted the General.

“Drummer boy,” the general turned to the drummer, a youth of about fifteen, “play the drum!”

The drummer started up a marching beat as the militia men straightened themselves up and more than a few said a short prayer.

“Men!” cried the general, “Follow me!” turning Herkimer led the militia company out through the gate and along the track towards the woods where the Indians waited.

xXx

At first Xander questioned just how sensible it was for the militia to march along the track in a column. Yes, it was a rather loose and ragged column but it still made an inviting target for the Indians hidden in the wood line. However he needn't have worried because at the first shot from the Indian positions the column broke up and reformed into a long skirmish line facing the woods. No sooner had the militia changed formation than men started to fire back at the Indians. Raising his own musket to his shoulder, Xander searched for a target, seeing movement he fired. Moments later he saw an Indian warrior fall out of a tree to land in the undergrowth.

“Good shooting there Alexander!” Adam called from nearby as he fired off his own musket.

Moving forward slowly, Xander reloaded his musket and wished once again he had an M16 instead of this ancient muzzle loader. With an M16 and enough ammunition he could win this fight by himself. As it was he could fire maybe twice a minute and even with the rifling in his musket's barrel it was more good luck than skill if he hit something. As he rammed home powder and shot and Indian musket balls buzzed about his ears, Xander realised he didn't feel scared. If he was honest with himself he'd always felt scared going into a fight at Buffy's side. But this time all he felt was a little perfectly natural apprehension (after all no one _wants_ to get shot). Firing off his musket again he suddenly realised why he wasn't frightened; this time he had Dawn to worry about other than just himself. If they didn't win today...well, the consequences of that just didn't bear thinking about.

Having reloaded for a third or fourth time, Xander found himself within fifty yards of the treeline, the Indian fire had slackened off as the Indians fell back further into the woods. The Indian fire had been pretty ineffective and somehow Xander knew that was because the Indian's had smoothbore muskets. With a smoothbore you were very lucky to hit what you aimed at at eighty yards, with his rifled musket he could hit at two-hundred or two-hundred-and-fifty yards. However, the Indians won out on reloading times. Although he'd been practising a lot, Xander knew he could fire maybe twice a minute on a good day. With his smoothbore an Indian could get off three, maybe even four shots a minute. Now it looked as if they were going to follow the Indians into the trees where the militia would lose any advantage they might have had in range.

Plunging into the undergrowth, Xander saw a flash followed by a bang and a cloud of powder smoke. Over to his left he heard one of his comrades yelp as he was hit. Throwing up his musket to his shoulder, Xander fired once more just as the Indian left cover to run for a tree further back. The Indian cried out and arched his back as Xander's ball hit him it the small of the back. The Indian crashed to the ground as Xander took shelter behind a tree and started to reload as fast as he could.

All around him there were cries of men as they were hit or called to their friends. Gun shots came quickly one after another as the powder smoke collected around men's legs, trapped between the trees in the still air. Loaded again, Xander looked carefully around his tree, there didn't appear to be anyone paying him any special attention so he picked another tree further into the wood and ran for it. No sooner had he stepped away from his tree that the air around him seemed to come alive with musket balls. Realising that he was too far away to go back to his old tree, he ran on as he felt the musket balls tug at his clothes like small hands.

Crashing to a halt behind his new tree, Xander tried to steady his breathing and told himself to be more careful in future; he'd be no use to Dawn if he was dead. Using the time it took him to catch his breath, he looked around to try and get an idea of how the battle was going. First he smiled at the idea that this was a battle. There couldn't be more than a couple of hundred men, which was counting the forces of both sides, involved in what was in reality an untidy skirmish. This was more Vietnam than Desert Storm. The militia, as best he could see, had lost any formation they might have had and were moving in an amorphous blob after the Indians who appeared to be trying to draw the militia deeper and deeper into the forest.

Aiming at an indistinct shape in the shadows under the trees Xander fired and once again an Indian fell dead in the undergrowth. Thinking that he couldn't be that good a shot, he examined his musket as he reloaded. It appeared to be a perfectly normal weapon with no mystical runes or talismans present. Shrugging he decided not to over think it and just go with the flow. But, the fact remained that even under these difficult conditions, with fleeting targets and a growing fog bank of powder smoke, he was hitting what he aimed at two times out of three.

And so the battle went on all afternoon with the Indians giving ground as they drew the militia further and further away from the fort. By about six o'clock the militia were beginning to run low on ammunition. After a short discussion, Captain Demooth and General Herkimer decided it was time to retrace their steps back to the fort. At first the Indians increased their rate of fire, they seemed to have plenty of ammunition, in an attempt to hold the militia in place. But when they saw that the Americans were determined to break contact they faded away into the forest and vanished.

Once the firing had died out, Captain Demooth called his company together and called the roll. There were three man missing; two were definitely dead, several men had seen them go down. The third man, one Jacob North had simply vanished into the woods. No one knew if he as dead or had run off. Plus there were five wounded, two of whom would need to be carried back to the fort; the Captain and the General decided that looking for North would have to wait. Moving as quickly as they could while still keeping a careful look out for the return of the Indians, the company made their way back to German Flats.

0=0=0=0

“ADAM!” cried Adam Helmer's widowed sister Sarah as he trudged through the gate into the fort, “Did you see 'em, did you catch 'em?”

“Nah, Sally,” Adam shook his head, “we chased them for seven or eight miles, but they got away from us.”

Taking her brother by the arm, Sarah led him over to the shack under the fort's wall that she'd made camp in.

Running over to the magazine, Xander had to jump aside as Doctor Petry came up the stairs to go and treat the wounded from the fight. Starting down the stairs he was next confronted by Mrs Weaver who blocked his way; oh god, Xander thought as he imagined that Dawn had died while he had been fighting the Indian's. He cursed himself for going off and not staying at her side.

“What happened?” the words came out of Xander's mouth in a hoarse whisper, his throat had gone suddenly dry.

“All the excitement and all that jolting,” Mrs Weaver started to explain, “it was all too much for her...”

No, Xander thought as the tears started to burn his eyes, Dawn was gone and he'd not been there to hold her hand or say goodbye.

“...but don't fret too much,” Mrs Weaver continued.

“Don't fret too much!?” Xander cried, the woman he loved was lying dead and this old battleaxe was telling him he shouldn't 'fret too much'.

“You're both young...” Mrs Weaver continued, “...you'll have another baby.”

“Baby?” Xander managed to croak.

“She's alright now,” Mrs Weaver reassured him, “just tied, go in and see her but don't let her talk too much.” 

Stepping out of the way Mrs Weaver allowed Xander to go down the stairs and into the magazine. Standing in the doorway still clutching his musket, he looked down at Dawn. Apart from looking a little pale in the candle light there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her, it was almost as if she was simply sleeping.

“Huh-humm-erg?” Xander said unable to form coherent thoughts or words.

He was just so relieved that Dawn was still alive; there was also the 'baby' thing to deal with, he'd not even suspected that Dawn might be pregnant. However, as they'd been having unprotected sex so often he shouldn't really be that surprised, but why hadn't she told him? Perhaps she hadn't realised herself. Leaning his musket against the door frame, Xander crossed the small room and knelt down at Dawn's side.

“Dawnie?” Xander called softly as he took her hand in his, “Dawnie sweetheart...”

Opening her eyes Dawn looked up at Xander and smiled weakly.

“You're back?”she murmured, “You're okay? Our house?”

“Burnt to the ground,” Xander replied sadly, he knew how they'd both grown so fond of their little cabin, “I saw it on the way back to the fort.”

“Oh no...” Dawn groaned, “...and the baby, I didn't even know...!”

“Please don't, Dawnie, its not your fault, its not anyone's fault, things just turn out that way sometimes,” Xander tried to be stoic but sometimes, like now, he simply wanted to take Dawn in his arms and cry on her shoulder, but he didn't he had to be strong for her.

“My poor Xander,” Dawn whispered, “all that work for nothing.”

“Oh Dawnie,” Xander gasped as he took her in his arms and held her like he'd never let her go, “you're alright that's all I care about.”

xXx

Out in the forest, Jacob North stumbled between the trees in the growing darkness. At the height of the battle he'd been reloading his musket; when he'd looked up he'd found himself alone with the sound of battle fading away into the distance. Not knowing where he was or which way he was going he'd tried to follow the sound of musket fire but had only succeeded in getting more and more lost. Eventually the sound of fighting had faded to nothing and he'd realised that he was completely alone.

Hoping to find a clearing big enough so he could see the stars and get a fix on what direction he was going in, Jacob blundered on through the darkening woods. Realising that he'd do more harm than good continuing with his frantic search he stopped next to a fallen tree. For just a moment he considered making a fire, but decided there might still be Indians around so he resolved to spend the night fireless in the woods. Hopefully tomorrow morning he could see where the sun came up and be able to work out which direction would take him back to civilisation. Just as he was about to settle down for a cold night in the wilderness, Jacob heard a sound coming from the surrounding underbrush.

“Who's there!?” Jacob demanded as he stood up and grabbed hold of his musket.

A large cloaked figure appeared to spring from the very ground at his feet. Crying out in alarm, Jacob fired his musket only to have it snatched from his hands. Screaming in panic as he tried to pull the tomahawk from his belt, Jacob felt inhumanly strong hands grab him and pull him towards the figure. Struggling in vain against the superhuman strength of the apparition in front of him, Jacob felt sharp teeth puncture his neck as the vile creature started to suck his life's blood from him.

xXx


	8. Chapter 8

8.

The first snows of the winter lay crisp and even on the ground as Dawn and Xander walked up to the ruins of the cabin that had once been their home. For the last few weeks, since the Indian attack, they'd been staying with Adam Helmer and his widowed sister on their farm which had escaped the attentions of the Indian raiders.

Standing there in the cold air, Dawn was for once grateful of all the petticoats she had to wear under her dress. Shifting slightly, she pulled the hood of her cloak more tightly around her as she surveyed the burnt out ruins of the place she'd come to think of as home. Over the months she'd been in this time with Xander she'd sort of imagined that she'd live here for the rest of her life; have a family, grow old and die. Unbothered by the forces of evil that had plagued her life since the moment she'd just popped into the world in Sunnydale. But any thoughts of living out her life as a farmer's wife had been dashed by the Indian attack which had resulted in her home being burnt to the ground and the loss of most of their belongings. It wasn't losing their possessions that had worried her so much; things could be replaced and she still had Xander, it was the destruction of her hopes and dreams that weighed heavily on her soul.

Steeping through the blackened hole that had once been her front door, Dawn moved between the half burnt timbers that had once held up the roof. Seeing something white in amongst the blackened beams and grey ash she bent and picked up the white teapot that Mrs Demooth had once asked if it was Wedgwood. Turning the teapot over in her hands she saw that half of it had been smashed and what remained was stained by smoke. Feeling the tears start to trickle down her face, Dawn tried to tell herself that it was stupid to get upset about a broken teapot. But that one piece of smashed china seemed to stand for all her broken dreams; not only had she lost her home she'd also lost the baby she hadn't even realised she'd been carrying.

The Indians had destroyed her home and caused the death of her unborn child. Thinking back to that Thanksgiving Dinner when Willow had got all 'holier than thou' about the treatment of the Native Americans by the white-man; Dawn couldn't help thinking that Willow had been talking out of her butt! Dawn wondered what Willow would say now if she could see the ruin of Dawn's home. Would she have been all forgiving as the Indians came to rape, kill and scalp her? No, Dawn felt sure that Willow would have unleashed her magics on the Indians because deep down and in spite of her fine words, Willow was no different than anyone else. When her home and loved ones were threatened she'd fight and kill to save them.

Putting the teapot back where she'd found it, Dawn wondered if in a couple of hundred years time someone would dig it up and ask how it had come to be there and what the people who'd owned it had been like. Of course she'd never know, she'd be long dead by then, she had no illusions about ever going back to the future, she and Xander were fated to live out their lives in the here and now, of this she felt sure.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother,” Xander said; Dawn could hear the bitterness in his voice, “it's like being back in good old Sunny-D. How many times have I replaced the windows and repaired the furniture only to have it smashed up again by the next monster to just wander in?”

“We can build it back up again,” Dawn found herself saying and much to her surprise she found she meant it, “we still own the land...”

“Do you think I want to come back out here and make you go through all that again?” Xander demanded, “You could have been killed...” Xander paused for a heartbeat, “...they killed our child Dawn...No! No more,” Xander shook his head, “we should never have stayed here, we should have gone to Albany. At least there I could have got a job where I knew what I was doing and where we both weren't likely to be murdered in our beds and scalped.”

“Erm, Xander,” Dawn forced a smile, “and how is this very much different to how things were in Sunnydale?”

“That's my point,” Xander pointed out, “its really the same and now...” he took a deep breath, “...and now I've got you to worry about...to look after...”

“Xander...” Dawn started to speak but was cut off by Xander.

“This is no place for you,” Xander snapped, “this is no place for anyone...I'm not a farmer and you're too good to be a farmer's wife, I...”

“XANDER!” Dawn yelled bringing Xander's misery-fest to an abrupt halt, “Don't you think I've got a say in where we go and what we do?”

“Well...” Xander shuffled his feet in the snow, “...but...”

“Like what?” Dawn demanded in a steady voice, if one of them was going to play the adult and stop all this whining about lost things it might as well be her.

“But...” Xander shifted uncomfortably and wouldn't meet Dawn's eyes for a moment, “I got you pregnant and...like...I kinda feel totally guilty about that...”

“Guilty?” Dawn grinned, “Look there's no need to feel guilty, I mean its not like you forced me. As I remember it I was more than eager and if there's anyone I'd want to get me pregnant its you...”

“It is?” Xander sounded sort of surprised at this piece of news.

“Of course it is, dufus,” Dawn smiled as she stepped over to Xander and held on to his arm and looked up into his eye, “and as soon as we have somewhere to live I want you to get me pregnant again!”

“What!?” Xander's voice sounded really high.

“Erm, sure!” Dawn replied all the time wondering if that was really what she wanted.

The thought struck her that she'd sort of got used to all the sex which Xander was really, really good at; which was pretty surprising because, apart from the carpentry, he was pretty useless at just about everything else. However, unless she wanted to live like a nun for the rest of her life (which she didn't, Dawn really enjoyed sex) babies were going to come along come what may and quite honestly she didn't mind about that...well maybe just a little.

“Look,” Dawn said after a long pause, “I was talking to Adam the other day and he said that Mrs McKlennar's hired man ran off and she's looking for a couple to work her place.”

“She is!?” Xander pulled Dawn close and looked down into her beautiful face all the time wondering what she saw in him, “Good old Mrs McKlennar, I mean it won't be forever...”

“As soon as we've made enough money to rebuild...” Dawn let the sentence fade as she saw the look of hope in Xander's eye.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head as he lead Dawn away from the ruins of all their hopes and dreams, “I mean she lives closer to the fort, maybe I'll be able to get some carpentry jobs and make some extra money that way...” just for a moment the light went out in Xander's eye, “...hey, do you know what she'll want me to do?”

“No,” Dawn giggled at the serious look on Xander's face, “but we could go and ask.”

xXx

Starting out from the ruins of their home straight away, Dawn and Xander arrived at Mrs McKlennar's front door about half-an-hour later. The McKlennar house was a big, two story, stone built house with a veranda at the front and two barns at the rear, along with several smaller building which Xander suspected were stores for feed and tools. Walking in off the track that ran in front of the house, Xander closed the garden gate behind them as Dawn walked up onto the veranda and knocked on the door. Turning she watched as Xander came to stand beside her.

“Why are you looking so nervous?” she whispered.

“I kinda hate job interviews.”

Before Dawn could say anything the door was opened by a black maid who smiled at them. After explaining that they were here to see Mrs McKlennar the maid showed them into a large sparsely furnished room and hurried off saying that she'd find Mrs McKlennar and she'd be with them presently. Seeing a big fire in a fireplace on the other side of the room, Dawn led the way over to it and started to warm herself up. Even with all her petticoats and her heavy cloak she was more than a little cold after their walk.

“Good mornin',” called a woman's voice from over by the front door.

Turning to look, Dawn saw a tall, older woman with a long, horse-like face standing just inside the room; she was dressed in a blue tartan dress with at least two shawls, also in blue, one wrapped around her shoulders and one over her head to keep the snow off, there was mud and snow on her boots and she held a vicious looking bull whip in her hand. Just for a second Dawn wondered if she used it to beat the black maid with.

“Your name Harris?” Mrs McKlennar asked.

“Yes Ma'am,” Dawn and Xander chorused all the time feeling like naughty kids sent to see the principal, Mrs McKlennar sort of had that effect on people; she threw her whip and one of her shawls onto a handy table and turned back to study the young couple for a moment.

“Well, go on an' stare, I know how I look,” Mrs McKlennar advanced across the room to where Dawn and Xander stood, “that fool hired man of mine got drunk and ran off, he left me with everything to do,” by now Mrs McKlennar was standing in front of the fire warming herself, “Harris, I don't mind a man having a drink or two as long as he can do his work...if he can't he better go some place else.”

Standing there warming her hands at the fire, Mrs McKlennar sounded like she had more to say, she glanced over her shoulder at Dawn and Xander.

“Don't just stand there,” she ordered, “sit down...”

Dawn and Xander sat down on a hard, high backed seat and tried not to fidget, Mrs McKlennar probably didn't like people who fidgeted.

“Right,” Mrs McKlennar stared down at Dawn and Xander as she rested her right hand on her hip, “you're here on business so lets get on with it...you know how to farm?”

“Not so much,” Xander admitted, “I'm a carpenter, we...” Xander gestured to Dawn and himself, “...we had a place of our own and I think we were making a go of it until...”

“Until you got burnt out,” Mrs McKlennar nodded as she finished the sentence for him, “well that's too bad. Anyway, I don't do much farming here and if you're a good carpenter I dare say you'll find enough work around to keep you busy. I'll just want you to take care of the meadows and feed the stock; sheep and cattle mostly with a few pigs,” Mrs McKlennar explained, “once you've done that you can do as you like...I'm a widow,” she picked up some fire wood and started to feed it to the fire, “my husband was Captain Barnabas McKlennar...Barney...” just for a moment Mrs McKlennar stopped what she was doing and stared into the fire as she remembered days gone by, “...what was I saying? Oh yes, I was brought up on army life so if I give an order I expect it to be obeyed...what!?”

“If I take your pay,” Xander replied levelly as Dawn tried not to giggle at the strange old lady, “I'll do the best I can...”

“Hmmm, I just don't want you coming 'round afterwards complaining that's all...” Mrs McKlennar turned her back to the fire and hitched up her skirts to warm her butt, Dawn had to bite her fist to stop herself from laughing out loud. “How much do you want?”

“I've never worked for anyone else,” at least not in this time, Xander added mentally, “how much do you expect to pay?”

“Forty-five pounds a year, ya house, fire wood and food,” Mrs McKlennar said loudly, “if ya wife can sew I'll pay her as well,” she looked at Dawn, “Can ya sew, you, what's ya name?”

“Erm, Dawn?” Dawn replied uncertainly.

“Can ya sew?”

Dawn nodded her head, sewing was one of the skills she'd had to pick up in the short time she'd been in the past. As it turned out she was pretty good at it.

“What?” Mrs McKlennar cried, “What? Speak up, would you like to sew for me?”

“Erm, yes, Ma'am!”

“Let me see ya hands,” Mrs McKlennar walked over to stand in front of Dawn who held out her hands for inspection.

Holding Dawn's hands in her own, Mrs McKlennar ran her fingers over Dawn's palms feeling all the calluses she'd developed from helping Xander in the fields. Whatever Mrs McKlennar was looking for she seemed to find it and she smiled as she held Dawn's hands in her own for a moment.

“I hate sewing,” Mrs McKlennar admitted, “I hate all housework...that's settled then.”

“It is?” Dawn asked.

“I've a long face and I poke it where I please,” Mrs McKlennar appeared to have shot off at a conversational tangent, “people say I'm a nuisance...”

“Yes Ma'am...” Xander said forgetting where he was. 

“What's he say?” Mrs McKlennar turned to Dawn who had got the strongest of feelings that the old woman knew exactly what Xander had said and implied. “Your thoughts are your own, Harris but keep 'em to y'self...come on,” Mrs McKlennar moved away from the fire and headed off across the room towards the back of the house, “I expect you want to see your new home...”

“Does that mean we've got the job?” Xander asked Dawn in a low whisper.

“Like duh,” Dawn replied.

Moving briskly, Mrs McKlennar led them out of the back of the house and across the snow covered yard pointing out buildings and their uses as she went. After only a short walk they came to a small wood frame house standing not fifty yards away from the main house. Putting her shoulder to the door, Mrs McKlennar pushed it open and led the way inside.

“It's a mess now,” Mrs McKlennar kicked some dried up corn husks across the floor, “after that _man_ , but its a good house I used to live here m'self until Barney built me that stone house.”

Looking around Dawn had to admit it was a mess it'd take her a couple of days to clean it up, but there was no sign of damp or leaks.

“There's a good fire place,” the fireplace was in fact massive, “and there's a bedroom upstairs, now have you got any furniture?”

“No,” Dawn shook her head, “we managed to save our clothes and some bedding but not much of anything else.”

“Well, not to worry I'll help you out with that...now when can you move in?”

“Erm, tomorrow?” Dawn replied thinking that she didn't want to rush things.

“What's wrong with today?” Mrs McKlennar wanted to know.

“Nothing,” Dawn admitted with a shake of her head.

“Well that's settled then,” Mrs McKlennar smiled before she headed for the door, “I'll leave you young people in peace...until tomorrow then...”

“Thank-you Ma'am,” Dawn and Xander called as Mrs McKlennar disappeared out the door closing it behind her.

“Wow!” Dawn cried as she threw herself into Xander's arms and hugged him, “I knew it'd turn out okay...”

“Yeah,” Xander replied as he returned Dawn's embrace, “in future I'll let you make all the big decisions.”

“Cool,” Dawn giggled as she stepped away from Xander.

Unclipping her cloak she laid it on the floor and sat down on it.

“Hey, bolt the door will you?” she smiled in what she hoped was a seductive way as she hitched up her skirts, “You wanna christen the place?”

xXx


	9. Chapter 9

9.

**Late July, 1777.**

It was now just over six months since Dawn and Xander had started to work for Mrs McKlennar and it was possibly one of the happiest periods in either of their lives. Looking after Mrs McKlennar's stock and farm took up about half of Xander's time. In the time left over he was able to do carpentry jobs for his neighbours and at the fort which was only about a mile and a half away from the house. Adding the money he earnt doing carpentry and his wages from Mrs McKlennar, Xander guessed that they'd have enough money to rebuild their cabin and move back to their own farm within a couple of years.

Dawn was also earning money, but only a few shillings a week, by sewing for Mrs McKlennar and helping Daisy, the black maid, around the house and farm. Daisy was also teaching Dawn to cook and make her own and Xander's clothes, these were both skills sets that were very necessary in the here and now. Although Dawn soon became something of a clothes making demon her cooking skills came to her much more slowly and many was the time the 'big' house's kitchen was filled with black smoke when one of Dawn's culinary experiments didn't go as she'd planed. However she was learning and not everything she put near the oven went up in clouds of acrid smoke.

Another major event in both Dawn's and Xander's life was the fact that Dawn was now six months pregnant. Dawn liked to think she'd conceived the time they'd made love on the floor just after Mrs McKlennar had showed them the house but she couldn't be sure. Whenever she'd conceived, she'd had an easy pregnancy so far. There'd been no 'morning' sickness or backache, in fact so far being pregnant had hardly slowed her down. It certainly hadn't affected her appetite for sex with her husband although now as she grew bigger they had to be more careful and more imaginative in the positions they adopted.

Today was Sunday and at about half-past-nine they'd all be going to church at the fort. At first Dawn had thought this was pretty weird, at home neither Dawn's mom or Xander's parents had been at all religious. Were as Joyce Summers thought that religion was something personal which you either rejected or adopted in you own time; Xander's parents were usually too busy sleeping off the booze they'd consumed the previous night to bother about taking Xander to church.

The odd thing was that after the first few visits to the church in the fort, both Xander and Dawn started to look forward to their Sunday morning outings. Although there was a certain religious element to the Sunday morning service, there was a much more important social constituent to these get-togethers. Although Mrs McKlennar's farm was only a mile and a half from the fort they still didn't actually see all that many people on a day-to-day basis. The church services gave everyone the opportunity to talk to friends and exchange news and gossip, with Reverend Rosenkrantz being one of the biggest purveyors of gossip in the county. Both Dawn and Xander did think it slightly odd that the Reverend (who was definitely a Protestant preacher or some sort) had a Jewish sounding name. But no one else mentioned it so they kept there thoughts to themselves.

xXx

Standing in an extended family group, Dawn, Xander, Mrs McKlennar and Daisy sang the hymn with gusto if not any great musical merit. After the final 'Amen' they sat down on the hard wooden benches and waited for the service to end. The reverend had done his sermon, a rather rambling speech about the excesses of drink, gambling and loose women. To be honest none of those three things were much of a problem around German Flats, Dawn couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a loose woman and the only alcoholic drink available was some homemade beer and a little 'moonshine' whiskey. There certainly wasn't much of a drinking problem in German Flats and its surrounding areas. Whatever, Dawn shrugged her shoulders the service would soon be over and she'd be able to gossip with her friends and show off her 'bump'. Being pregnant was a definite social 'plus' around the settlement. The next part of the service was what Dawn called the 'public announcements' section. The reverend mounted the stairs that led up to his high pulpit and settled himself in front of the big glass window that let the light in so he could read his bible. Resting his hands on the edge of the pulpit the reverend looked out over his congregation and started to speak.

“Oh almighty god,” he began, “hear us we beseech thee and bring succour and guidance to those we are about to bring to your divine notice...”

Dawn never really understood this part, because if god was really all powerful and all knowing he wouldn't need to have anything brought to his notice because he'd already know about it. What Dawn actually thought was going on here was that the preacher was spreading a little gossip, some of which was just a little malicious, to his congregation.

Whatever the reason Rev. Rosenkrantz started by bringing the name of a sixteen year old girl to the notice of the congregation. The girl had come to the attention of the reverend because she was dating a soldier from the fort at Dayton. It sounded like the main reason for the reverend's comments was that the soldier came from Massachusetts and Rev. Rosenkrantz didn't seem to like people from Massachusetts. Next Rev. Rosenkrantz asked for prayers for a Peter Paris who 'had the flux real bad'. However, this Paris guy's Uncle Isaac was a storekeeper in Dayton who'd just received a new consignment of goods which he was apparently selling at bargain prices.

“Finally,” the Rev. Rosenkrantz continued as Dawn sighed a sigh of relief, her butt was going numb, “I have disturbing news that will sorrow this Sabbath. General Washington has advised us that an enemy army of many Tories and savage Indians is even now on its way to our beloved valley...”

Dawn's heart missed a beat at this news as she reached out to hold onto Xander's arm, she knew what this news would mean.

“...every man capable of bearing arms between the ages of sixteen and sixty will report tomorrow morning to General Herkimer; at which time a regiment of Washington's Continentals will arrive from Albany under the command of Colonel Fisher to help us. Any man failing to report for duty will be promptly hanged...Amen.”

xXx

The news that all the men would be gong away to fight had thrown a wet blanket over the after service gathering. Most of everyone after exchanging the briefest of words with their friends and neighbours had gone back to their homes. After a rather suppressed Sunday dinner, Xander went off by himself to prepare his equipment for the coming campaign while Dawn sat with Mrs McKlennar who told her about her experiences as a soldiers wife. She tried to reassure Dawn that Xander would be fine and that he was a good sensible fellow who wouldn't get himself killed. But Dawn knew the truth; Xander was brave and not the sort of man who'd hang back from a fight, that had been how he'd lost his eye, trying to help someone (like her sister) out. Xander would always put himself in the forefront of any battle where the musket balls and arrows were the thickest, it was simply his nature. It was just getting dark when Dawn went back to her own house; after making supper for herself and Xander they sat in front of their fire place and stared into the flames.

“You've got enough gunpowder and bullets?” Dawn asked breaking the long silence that had settled over the house.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head.

“What about spare socks?”

“Those too,” he nodded again.

“And a blanket, it might be warm now but it still gets cold at night...” Dawn started to realise she was sounding like her mother, but she didn't know what else to say.

“Its okay Dawnie,” Xander said softly, “I've packed everything I'll need, the guys say we'll only be gone a week, two tops we're just marching on up to Fort Stanwick to chase away the British.”

“Can you imagine chasing Giles away from anything if he didn't want to go?” Dawn asked soberly.

“Oh come on Dawn,” Xander forced a laugh, Giles could be pretty stubborn and scary when he wanted to be, “its not like we'll be fighting an army of Giles'...thank god,” he added softly.

“Okay,” Dawn gulped as she tried to stop herself from crying; yes, Xander had had to fight before but that was just chasing off a bunch of Indians, this was different, “but you remember to duck and don't go and win any medals...”

“I don't think they have medals,” Xander shrugged, “so I won't try and win any...”

“You just come home to me safe and sound Xander Harris, or...” the thought of what might happen to Xander proved too much for Dawn and she broke down to sob on Xander's shoulder.

Putting his arms around Dawn's body he tried to comfort her the best he could, but there was no denying it, he was just as scared as Dawn. He'd been in a few skirmishes against Indian raiding parties but he'd never been in a real battle. All the fights he'd been in with Buffy had been against demons. They might be bigger and stronger than him but they came at you head on, you could see them coming. The Indians on the other hand fired from cover, you could be killed by a man you'd not even seen. One minute you could be fine, the next you could be dead or wounded and never have seen the man who'd shot you.

“Oh look at me,” Dawn tried to smile as she dabbed at her eyes with her apron, “getting all hormonal. This is no way to spend out last few hours together before you go...” Dawn took a deep breath and raised her face to look Xander in the eye, “...you wanna totally like go upstairs to bed?”

“Well,” Xander paused as he seemed to think the idea over, “it'd be a shame to waste all these candles, so yeah why not?”

“Sometimes, Xander Harris...” Dawn didn't get a chance to finish what she was going to say before Xander reached for her and kissed her into silence.

“Oooh,” Dawn moaned softly as their lips parted for a moment, “shiver me timbers...”

xXx

**Monday Morning.**

“I don't think I tell you enough how much I love you,” Dawn said as she lay in bed next to Xander her head resting on his shoulder, “or what you mean to me...I mean I've always loved you in a sorta little girl, big brother way...” Dawn paused as she thought over what she'd just said; considering she was lying next to the man who's child she was carrying it sounded just a little icky.

“Whatever,” Dawn decided she didn't care if it sounded 'icky' or not, “I love you and that's an end to it...and the sex is really great by the way...”

Not that she'd had too much experience of that before Xander, her sister had made sure of that. But she was nearly nineteen now, although she felt much older, the responsibilities of frontier life did that to you. 

“Every time you touch me I go tingly all over and when we kiss its like the first time and when we have sex...wow!” Dawn giggled, “You remember that first time we did it in the field?” Dawn asked but Xander didn't answer so she kept on talking, “Like every time is like that...” Dawn fell silent as she remembered her first orgasm with someone else fondly, “...I think the monks musta done something to make up for all the other crap in my life, I mean,” Dawn laughed softly, “...I mean I totally get off even when I'm just sucking you...oh my god did I really say that!?”

Raising her head a little Dawn looked at Xander's face to see he still had his eye shut.

“Xander?” Dawn nudged her husband.

“Hmmm?” came Xander's sleepy reply.

“Xander!” Dawn nudged him until his eye opened.

“Wot?” he asked sleepily, “Did you say something...?”

“Nothing important,” Dawn sighed in relief, “but its time to get up...”

“Already?”

“Yeah already,” Dawn replied as she moved in to kiss Xander's lips, “But we've got time for 'one for the road'...if you totally want to that is.”

“Try an' stop me...”

xXx

Standing on the grass in front of Mrs McKlennar's house, Dawn fiddled with Xander's hat as she secured the green sprig of foliage in the hat band.

“You stay close to Mrs McKlennar while I'm gone,” Xander told Dawn quietly, “do what she says.”

“Yes Xander,” Dawn nodded her head and passed Xander his hat.

“I better go now,” Xander announced reluctantly as he watched down the track towards German Flats, “watch out for those new apple trees...”

Dawn straightened his hat and adjusted the straps that supported his haversack before she broke down and threw herself into his arms.

“Alexander,” Mrs McKlennar's voice came to him from the veranda of the main house.

“Ma'am,” Xander reluctantly let go of Dawn and walked over to the woman he'd come to think of as a sort of mother or grandmother; whatever Mrs McKlennar had showed him more affection and respect in the last six months than his real family had in years.

As Xander went to see what Mrs McKlennar wanted, Dawn dried her eyes and turned to look down the track, she could hear the drums beating out the time as the column approached from the fort. This was it, she told herself, in a few minutes Xander would be gone and she might never see him again. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand she looked down the track and caught her first glimpse of the marching soldiers.

“...thank-you, Ma'am,” Xander said as Mrs McKlennar handed him a military water bottle.

“It was Barney's,” Mrs McKlennar explained, “its no use to me now,” the old lady shook her head sadly, “it might come in handy to you,” she explained as the sound of the fifes and drums got closer and louder, “Alexander Harris I'm gonna kiss ya!” Mrs McKlennar announced, “I'll do it now so you won't go off with the taste of a widow in ya mouth.”

Grabbing hold of Xander's shoulders, Mrs McKlennar pulled him to her bosom and kissed him full on the mouth before letting him go and running back into the house. For a moment Xander just stood there a little stunned as he tried to imagine his own mother doing that. He couldn't so he turned away from the house and trotted over to where Dawn stood and watched the approaching soldiers.

Joining Dawn at the garden gate just as the last of the Continentals marched by, Xander gathered Dawn in his arms and kissed her one last time. He let her go just as his militia company came level with the gate. Turning he ran down the line of the column and joined on to the end as Dawn stood by the gate and watched the men pass by. Inside the house Mrs McKlennar and Daisy watched the soldiers pass by from a window.

“Many's the time I've seen Barney march off like that,” Mrs McKlennar said with a far away look in her eyes as she saw red coated soldiers march away in her minds eye, “Goodbye!” she called as she waved her hand before turning away from the window, “Sometimes he'd wave,” she sat down in her rocking chair next to the fire, “most of the time he wasn't even seeing me...thinking about all those men you see,” she glanced at Daisy, “all those men going out to fight, to kill or be killed, blast his eyes he loved it!”

Leaning back in her chair Mrs McKlennar started to rock herself back and forth as she remembered her husband.

Out on one of the newly cleared fields, Dawn stood and watched as the soldiers and Xander marched off north along the rough road that disappeared into the forest. The sound of the fifes and drums came faintly to her ears on the breeze. As she watched she imagined she could just see Xander in his blue jacket as he marched at the rear of the column. Standing there she felt the tears roll down her face, she somehow knew she'd never see him again. Finally she couldn't stand any longer and she collapsed onto the ground. Sitting there watching the last of the soldiers disappear into the trees, Dawn wrapped her arms around her stomach and felt her baby kick and wondered if her child would ever get to see its father.

xXx


	10. Chapter 10

10.

Marching at the rear of the column, Xander had been the last man to be picked up, he glanced over his shoulder. There on a rise behind him he thought he saw a small figure in a dress waving. Raising his hand he was about to wave back when the column went around a bend in the track and the little, faraway figure was lost to view behind the trees. Wondering if the figure had been Dawn, Xander marched on in silence as he worried about whether Dawn would be alright and whether he'd ever get home.

“I know exactly what you're thinking,” announced Adam Helmer who'd dropped back to walk next to Xander.

“Go on then, surprise me,” Xander laughed bitterly as he walked along, “what am I thinking?”

“Your thinking; why am I here when my wife's at home with a baby on the way?” Adam replied, “You're thinking what'll happen to Dawn if you get killed or wounded...?”

“Hey,” Xander shrugged, “you outta take that show on the road, you got it in one, tell me how you do it.”

“It's what I'd be thinking in your place if I had a wife like Dawn and a home like yours,” Adam explained, “You know Alexander sometimes I really envy you.”

“You do?” Xander asked slightly puzzled, “I thought you enjoyed being free and single.”

“Mostly I do,” Adam admitted, “but then I look at that pretty girl of yours and I start to wonder what married life would be like and being a father and all sorts of things like that.”

“Mostly?” Xander prompted.

“Well, yeah,” it was Adam's turn to shrug now, “coz after I think of that I start thinking about not being able to get drunk whenever I want, or, go off hunting instead of staying at home and working a farm, stuff like that.”

“You know,” Xander sighed, “I sometimes wish I could do that kinda thing but then I look at Dawnie and...”

“And you're glad you're a married man,” Adam laughed.

“Yeah,” Xander admitted with a smile, “she's about the best thing that ever happened to me. I just hope I can be a good husband for her.”

“From where I'm standing,” Adam nudged Xander with his elbow and gave him a meaningful wink, “you ain't been doing too badly, HA!”

xXx

On that first day the column made good time as it made its way towards Fort Stanwick. The road was level and dry everyone was fresh and the sun wasn't too hot. That night the column camped in a meadow near a fast flowing stream where a meal was cooked and everyone dined on roast beef and hardtack biscuits. It was on that first night that Xander started to notice things that concerned him. Even with his limited military experience he noticed how things weren't being done properly. Although the Continentals kept a vigilant guard around their part of the camp the guard around the militia camp was lax and no one took it very seriously. If the first evening's meal was anything to go by a diet of meat and hard crackers was going to cause problems if they didn't get some fresh fruit or vegetables and this was a long campaign. Also everyone's camp hygiene left a lot to be desired and Xander started to be careful where he got his water from.

The next morning dawned bright and clear and after a breakfast of pork and beans the column started off on its march to confront the 'Tories' and Indians. As the troops marched on down the track, Xander started to notice that today seemed hotter than the day before. If he was at home today would be a perfect day for cutting hay followed by taking the cattle down to the river to cool off. But he wasn't at home so he just made sure his water bottle was full and he took off his jacket, rolled it up and tied it to his haversack.

By midday the sun was beating down unmercifully on the column and Xander was glad when the troops marched under the cool dark trees that overhung the track. Even so men started to drop out of the column being unused to marching for so long in the heat. The first of the German Flats men to drop out was Christian Real, he was too old, too fat and too short to keep up with the younger fitter men. Very soon Christian had company in the form of Tom Weaver, Jesse Weaver's husband; he was another man who was really too old to be out on active service, but the regulations had said 'all men capable of bearing arms between the ages of sixteen and sixty', Xander was beginning to think that this was a stupid regulation.

By the afternoon Xander found himself passing by men from other militia companies who'd fallen out by the side of the road. Some would rejoin the column after a short rest, but a lot more would probably head for home once their feet had stopped hurting. Again Xander noticed the difference between the hardened Continentals and the militia. He didn't see one regular fall out, they just kept going at a steady pace slowly drawing ahead of the militia. By half way through the afternoon the condition of the track started to deteriorate and the militia found themselves drafted in to push the supply wagons out of the pot holes that now plagued the march.

Hot and exhausted the militia stumbled into their camping area and collapsed onto the ground. This camp didn't look anywhere near as good as the previous night's site. The steam they were supposed to get water from was almost ten minutes walk away. Although Xander forced himself to go to the river to wash and refill his water bottle a lot of men didn't. Something was telling him that if he had a chance to fill his water bottle with fresh water he better take it. He dragged a complaining Adam Helmer along, but he was grateful enough and thanked Xander for forcing him to come along when he was soaking his aching feet in the cold water.

Getting back to camp they found there was only salt pork and hard tack biscuits for supper and the German Flats company had been detailed to form the guard for the night. This news was received by groans by the tired men who might have mutinied there and then if they hadn't been so exhausted by the day's labours. General Herkimer explained that they needed a guard as they were now in 'Indian Territory', this news still didn't impress the men with the need to stand guard. Sighing heavily, Xander decided that he'd have to set an example, he wanted to get home to Dawn alive and whole, he didn't want to be scalped in his sleep by some enterprising Indian brave.

Getting slowly to his feet, Xander volunteered for guard duty. A moment later Adam stood up and joined Xander, after a pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity half a dozen other men reluctantly stood up and agreed to stand watch if they didn't have to do it again for at least a week. With a look of relief on his face General Herkimer told Xander he was Guard Commander and to get his guard organised. As the general stomped off through the trees to his own little part of the camp. Captain Demooth approached Xander with his book of military instructions. Listening politely as the Captain explained how a camp guard should be set, he smiled and nodded before telling the Captain that he knew what to do with as much conviction as he could.

It sounded to him that setting the guard as described in the book was a good way of getting everyone's throats cut in the night. Instead he chose to split his force into three pairs. Each pair would patrol the camp for two hours, while he and Adam would take a turn around the camp at random intervals. This was mainly so Xander could check that the guard wasn't goofing off under a blanket or something. Of course there were complaints, but Xander managed to talk everyone around into doing things his way. His old army memories, faint though they were these days, were telling him that this was no way to run an army; but this was what he had so he'd have to make do.

xXx

“No Dawn, I'm tired,” Xander muttered half asleep, “let me rest,” Dawn wanted him to make love to her again...the girl was insatiable worse even than Anya.

“Alexander!” Xander found his shoulder being shaken so hard he couldn't ignore it any more.

“Wot?” Xander blinked his eye open to find not Dawn's face but that of Adam's staring down at him.

“Get up quick,” Adam whispered urgently, “there's something you need to see.”

“Okay, okay,” Xander pushed his blanket off his body and immediately felt chilled by the cool morning air.; climbing slowly to his feet he picked up his musket and automatically checked the priming pan to make sure the powder wasn't damp, “Right,” he sighed heavily, “what's going on?”

“Quick come with me,” Adam led Xander towards the edge of the camp and then into the trees beyond.

As he trotted between the trees following Adam, Xander wondered why they were going so far from the camp, a moment later he found out why. Lying in the forest litter beneath the trees lay, Bill Stevens and Mark King, they'd both had their throats ripped out. Kneeling down next to the body of Mark King, Xander examined the wounds to the man's throat.

“Whatever did this dragged one of them into the woods from the perimeter of camp,” Adam explained, “I found drag marks near the edge of the camp. The other musta heard something and gone to take a look...it musta been wolves, but I didn't think there were anymore wolves left around here.”

The wounds on the men's necks weren't made by wolves, Xander had seen these sorts of bite marks all too often in Sunnydale, these were the wounds typically left by vampires. The bodies were cold and Xander was willing to bet that they didn't contain even one drop of blood.

“Where's Buffy when you need her?” Xander sighed sadly.

“What was that?” Adam asked.

“Nothing,” Xander climbed to his feet as he scanned the surrounding trees, “you're probably right this was wolves, did you find any tracks?”

“That's the odd thing,” Adam replied as he held tight to his musket, “no wolf tracks but I did find another set of human tracks wearing boots, they headed off towards the north-west there,” Adam pointed into the trees.

“Maybe an enemy scout,” Xander suspected that the boot marks belonged to the vampire; why a vampire here, why now? “Look you better get the General and Captain Demooth, but don't tell anyone what's happened here, not yet.”

Watching Adam trot off towards the camp, Xander quickly pulled out his knife and cut off a stake sized branch from a nearby tree. Hurriedly whittling it to a point he knelt down next to Bill Stevens, moved his clothing so there wouldn't be a hole and rammed the wood into his heart. Much to his relief Bill's body didn't dissolve into dust. He repeated the procedure on Mark who remained solid. Sighing with relief, Xander threw away his stake and thanked his lucky stars that he wouldn't have to try and explain why one or both of the bodies had vanished. Rearranging the men's clothes Xander was just in time to greet and make his report to the General and Captain Demooth.

The General listened to Xander's report and sent Adam and Captain Demooth back to camp to form a burial party before turning and looking at Xander.

“The good Captain looked a little green around the gills, ja?” the General knelt to examine the bite marks on the men's necks again, “these don't look much like wolf bites to me,” he glanced up at Xander, “there should be other wounds if they were wolf bites, don't you think?”

“I'm no expert...on wolf bites,” Xander shrugged non-committally.

“Ja,” General Herkimer got back to his feet with a little help from Xander, “whatever did this, ve better get these poor fellows into the ground right quick or the company will be left behind.”

“You don't think it was wolves do you?” Xander asked quietly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the General shrugged, “it's just that it reminds me of something from the old country...and we don't have wolves there, at least not four footed ones...”

The old General said no more because half a dozen men arrived at that moment to help lay Bill and Mark in their final resting places.

xXx

After the short burial service, General Herkimer gave a speech, he explained how the two men they'd lost had fallen victims to the local wildlife. He also explained that they had to go on with their mission because the men a Fort Stanwick were relying on them to break the siege. He also warned everyone who deserted would be caught and hung. Also that they were now moving into areas that were controlled by the Tories and Indians, so if he didn't catch any deserters the Indians most certainly would! Next in an attempt to lighten the mood a little, the general explained how tomorrow they'd probably get into combat with the enemy and how they were going to kick their butts right back into Canada.

This last caused a cheer to come from the throats of the militia, however, Xander didn't think the cheer held as much conviction as it should when it was coming from men who were going to fight and win a battle tomorrow. No the cheer sounded like it came from men who weren't too sure about things and were beginning to wish that they were at home with their wives and families. To be honest the militia shouldn't be here, at least that's what Xander told himself as they started out on the day's march. These men would fight like tigers to defend their own and their neighbour's home's. But they were a long way from home now and a lot of the men were wondering what this fight had to do with their valley.

Marching on through the gathering heat of the day, Xander also wished he was at home with Dawn instead of being here. But he also knew that by being here he was helping to make sure that Dawn wouldn't be burned out of her home again and wouldn't have to run for her life to the fort. Also there was now the added problem of a vampire on the loose, now that was something he'd not expected and it was something he could well do without!

xXx


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Kneeling behind a boulder, Lieutenant William Cunningham watched the head of the American column as it marched into the valley unaware that it was marching to its doom. One of the unexpected consequences of fighting against a foe who spoke the same language as you was that it was easy for a man to infiltrate an enemy camp and discover the enemy's secrets. This was exactly what Colonel Caldwell had done over the last few nights. Waiting until the American rebels camped for the night he would then gain access to their camp and listen as they discussed their plans before leaving and returning to pass on the information by way of messages carried by Indian runners and written in classical Greek or Latin. In this way the Crown forces had been able to set their own ambush and were even now waiting to destroy the American column. 

The Americans had split their force into two divisions, the so-called Continentals had gone by a more direct route and would attack Fort Stanwick frontally, while the American militia would come upon the rear of the fort by a more circuitous route. Neither American force by itself could hope to take the fort which was guarded by a garrison of British regulars and local Loyalists. The Americans obviously hoped that by attacking from two directions they'd be able to distract the defenders, split their fire and capture the fort. With the intelligence that Colonel Caldwell had gathered the Crown forces had every hope of destroying the American militia before it reached the fort.

The Crown's plan was to let the American regulars attack the fort, there were only some four-hundred American troops and the fort's commander, Colonel Sir John Summers was confident that his garrison could hold the fort against such an attack. While this attack was going on the Loyalists and their Indian allies would ambush the American militia and destroy them forcing the American regulars to break off their attack and retreat. Once the militia had been destroyed, the Indians could harry the Continentals all the way back to the Mohawk valley.

The American force, now stretched out in a long straggling column along the valley floor, consisted of about four or five hundred militia and perhaps one hundred Indians in the pay of the American Congress. The force that William had available amounted to only about two-hundred-and-fifty Indian allies plus around a hundred Loyalist light infantry and rangers. The valley that the Americans were marching into so blindly was little more than a large gorge. A shallow river meandered down the floor of the valley between rocks and boulders, none of which would provide much in the way of cover for the Americans once the ambush was sprung. The walls of the valley were steep and almost bare of any significant vegetation, however the lips of the valley had plenty of cover for William's Indian allies to hide in. The plan was simplicity itself, while the Loyalists held the head of the valley parties of Indians were deployed along the valley walls while another party of Indians were placed so as to 'close the door' behind the Americans and prevent their escape.

Watching the Americans through his spy-glass, William couldn't believe his luck or his eyes. So much for the cunning of the American woodsman he thought. The American force led by their general, who was mounted on a mule at their head, were blindly marching in column into the valley. At first William had been so stunned by this display of military incompetence that he'd suspected a counter-ambush. However, once his Indian and Ranger scouts had confirmed that the Americans were indeed marching in his trap he decided to punish them for their stupidity. The American scouts were only a few yards in front of the head of the column. The American general had deployed no flank guards or even a proper rear guard, it was as if he believed that the only Crown forces in the area were locked up in the fort.

Sweeping his spy-glass along the lines of militia, William stopped suddenly and focused in on one particular man in the ranks of the enemy militia. There, revealed by his spy-glass was the one eyed American farmer whom he'd seen making love to his pretty young wife in his field so long ago. For a moment William wondered what the young woman was doing right now and how she would react to the news that her husband had been killed by the foolishness of the American general. William sighed, there was nothing he could do to prevent the young woman's heartache when she learnt the news of her husband's death, this was, however regrettable, war and people died in war.

Putting his spy-glass back into its leather container, William was just about to pick up his musket when he heard a shot from the far end of the column. At first he thought that maybe one of the Americans had at last seen his ambush and had fired a warning shot. Whatever had happened it brought the Americans to an uncertain halt, they obviously didn't know what was happening as they stood in ranks looking around in confusion. 

Within seconds of the first shot there was another and then another until there was a veritable fusillade of shots coming from the rear of the American column. Looking over the top of his boulder, William saw clouds of powder smoke rise into the still air from around the cut in the valley wall that let the river drain out into the forest beyond. By now the Americans were beginning to react as their officers tried to form the militia into a firing line facing back the way they'd just come. William was fairly sure he knew what had happened. The Indians tasked with trapping the American's in the valley had obviously got overexcited and opened fire before all the rebels were in the valley. Not to worry, he told himself as he jumped to his feet and waved his musket above his head.

“GIVE FIRE!” he yelled as loudly as he could, “GIVE FIRE!”

Before his last words were fully out of his mouth the edges of the valley erupted into smoke and flame as the Indians fired down into the Americans as they tried to form ranks. Only a couple of seconds later the light infantry and rangers fired a disciplined volley into the head of the American column. Watching in satisfaction as the vanguard of the American force was swept away as if by the hand of a giant, William brought his own musket to his shoulder and fired into the smoke. Not knowing if he'd hit anything he quickly ducked down and started to reload.

In the twenty or so seconds that it took the Loyalist troops to reload the smoke cleared a little and William could see the piles of American dead fallen amongst the river boulders. He also saw a dead mule lying in the narrow river as its rider, the American commander, crawled towards where some of his men had formed a firing line.

“MAKE READY!” cried Captain Oswald who commanded the light infantry and rangers, he was keeping his men well in hand, “PRESENT! LEVEL! FIRE!!!”

Another volley lashed out and punished the Americans. Watching the effect of the volley William found himself wishing for more regular troops. If the Americans could be hit by steady volley's from three sides they'd soon break and try to run. As it was the ragged fire coming from the Indians after their initial volley was allowing the Americans time to reorganise. Imagining the American officers giving up and idea of fighting a formal battle, he knew they'd soon form up in loose order and fight as skirmishers.

From what William had heard and read about other battles it seemed that American commanders kept trying to use their militia as regular line infantry, a task that they were not trained or suited for. When faced by the inexorable advance of British regulars the militia invariably ran away, and quite rightly too, in their place William would run away too. If however, the American general Washington was to deploy his militia as light infantry skirmishers on his flanks then British generals might not find it so easy to outflank him out of his positions.

This William could see for himself right now. Once the Americans had given up the idea of fighting as formed units and gone back to 'loose files and Indian scrabble' they were harder for the Loyalist troops to hit. The effect of their volleys was dissipated by there not being any good targets to shoot at. Moving over to where Captain Oswald stood. William told him to change to skirmisher tactics and start to advance down into the valley to support the Indians. The Indians had already begun to work their way down to the valley floor. Not all the Indians had been armed with muskets and were pretty poor shots anyway, they wanted to close to hand-to-hand combat.

However, as the American militia were still armed with long muskets with no bayonets the Indians would not be easily defeated. Working from tree to tree and from bush to bush the Indians armed with spears and tomahawks would rush an American while he was trying to reload. Seeing two or three screaming savages coming towards him the American would be faced with a stark choice; he could either try to run or he could drop his musket and fight with knife and tomahawk. As often as not whichever choice the American made it ended with him being hacked down by the Indians.

Now on the valley floor itself, William fired into the powder smoke and reloaded as he got a 'feel' for which way the battle was going. Although the Americans had been taken by surprise the ones actually facing their foes were starting to stiffen and although they were slowly giving ground they didn't look as if they were going to run. Towards the rear of what remained of the American column things were different. Although the Indians there had fired prematurely they'd also pressed their initial advantage and had got in amongst the Americans and had cut them down before they really knew what was happening. Now the survivors were beginning to give away and the Indians would belatedly be able to close the trap.

It seemed that whoever was commanding the American main body of troops had realised this and he was leading his men in a fighting retreat. William had to admire the man whoever he was. A retreat under fire was a difficult task to perform even with well trained and disciplined troops. The Americans were neither well trained or disciplined. The American commander must be holding his men in line simply by the force of his own will. If the Crown's forces could kill that man the Americans would break and run, then they could be slaughtered as they ran like rabbits through the trees.

Turning to watch as the Loyalists skirmished towards the Americans, William fired off another shot and was reloading as he advanced towards a largish boulder nearer to the American line. He'd not finished loading nor had he reached the boulder when an American popped up from behind the boulder and aimed his musket at him. For just a split second, that seemed to go on for eternity, William found himself looking down the muzzle of the American's long rifle. The American fired, his flint struck sparks into his priming pan and powder exploded producing a large cloud of white smoke. Expecting to feel the ball rip through his body, William was surprised to find himself still alive and faced by the American who was looking at his musket in surprise.

“A flash in the pan!” William laughed as he made for the rebel; unlike the Americans, William did have a bayonet and it was firmly fixed to the muzzle of his musket.

Coming at the American, William found his thrust turned to one side by the American's musket barrel and for a moment the two men found themselves staring into each others eyes, or in William's case his opponent’s eye.

“YOU!” they cried in unison.

There standing in front of him was the one eyed American farmer who seemed to crop up whenever he, William, came into contact with the rebels. Shaking off his surprise, William recovered his weapon and made another lunge for the American, this time aiming at his throat. But this rebel was good, he seemed to know what he was doing, obviously he was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat unlike so many of his compatriots. The American easily parried William's thrust before trying to brain him with the butt of his musket.

Neither man gave ground as the came together for a third time. Locked in close combat for a moment both men stared into each others faces as they struggled for ascendency. Eventually, William managed to catch the rebel on the side of his head with the butt of his musket. It was only a glancing blow but it stunned the American enough for William to break off and ready his musket and bayonet for another attack. The one eyed rebel stumbled on a loose rock and fell, as he fell he dropped his musket but in an instant he was back on his feet, knife and tomahawk in hand and ready to fight again. Looking at the rebel standing there ready to fight, William glanced behind the young man to where the rest of the Americans were slowly retreating out of the valley.

“Go!” William gestured with his musket, “Go before you're cut off,” the American was a brave and gallant foe; plus William couldn't bear the thought of being the one to kill this man and make his pretty young wife a widow.

Looking over his shoulder Xander saw the remnants of the militia retreat towards the entrance of the valley. For some reason the Brit officer who looked scarily like Angel was giving him a chance to escape.

“You don't have to tell me twice,” Xander quipped as he bent to pick up his musket, “another time, huh?”

“Another time,” William gestured with his musket in a way that might have been a salute, he smiled, “and give my regards to your lovely wife.”

The smile the Angel-like officer gave Xander made his blood turn to ice water for a moment, but a second later a bank of powder smoke hid the officer from his view. Alone now and with his friends slowly getting further and further away, Xander turned and ran back towards the American lines. On rejoining the remnants of the force that had only a few hours ago marched with such high hopes of taking the British fort, Xander found himself in company with Adam Helmer and John Big Tree.

Whoever was in charge had ordered the survivors to work in groups of two or three men. In this way there would always be one man firing while another reloaded and a third stood guard with a loaded musket. In this way they avoided being rushed by Indians as an individual man stood defenceless while he reloaded. With the Indian's tactics somewhat nullified the Americans were able to slowly make their way out of the valley. On reaching the valley entrance they found the bodies of the rear of the column where they'd been shot or cut down by the Indians.

By now there was no sign of the loyalists and their green coats, any pursuit of the defeated American force was being carried out by the Indians. It was nearly dusk when Xander was hit by a stray ball that came from under the trees. Afterwards he couldn't tell you if the shot had been fired by an Indian or one of his fellow militia. But struck he was, the ball gouged a furrow in the fleshy part of his upper left arm. Adam put a rough bandage on the wound as they slowly made towards the road that would take them to their homes and to safety.

xXx

**Author's note** ; the battle described in this chapter was loosely based on The Battle of Oriskany. This is where the historical General Herkimer lead around 800 militia into an ambush. The British/Loyalist/Indian force numbered somewhat more than 400 men of which only about 100 were Loyalist 'regulars' and not all the Indians had muskets. During the battle, Herkimer was mortally wounded. The battle cost the so-called 'Patriots' approximately 450 casualties, while those jolly good fellows the Loyalists and there brave Indian allies lost approximately 150 dead and wounded. 

Basically the Americans got there arses handed to them on a plate. The only thing to spoil this magnificent Crown victory was when a party of American rebels attacked and looted the camps belonging to the Indians. This had a negative effect on Indian morale and probably prevented the Crown's forces from sweeping the insurrectionists from the Mohawk valley.

Because of the attack on the Indian camps the Americans claimed they had won the battle beginning a tradition where by Americans claimed to have won battles/wars when they hadn't...I did say at the beginning I'd be cheering for the British/Loyalist/Indian side!


	12. Chapter 12

12.

It was a dark and stormy night, lightning flashed, thunder boomed and Dawn sewed as the rain came down like the prelude to a biblical flood. Marcel Real got up from her seat next to Dawn and went to look out the window into the dark, wet night.

“You'll be staying here tonight, Marcel Real,” Mrs McKlennar called as she sat by the fire pretending to sew (a chore she hated), “its too wild a night for you to walk home.”

“Thank-you, Mrs McKlennar,” Marcel turned for a moment as she addressed the older woman before turning back to watch the storm for a little while longer.

It had been about two weeks since Xander and the rest of the men had marched off to fight the Loyalists and Indians. Earlier in the day Marcel had turned up at the McKlennar farm to visit with Dawn and help out a little around Dawn's house. As the afternoon had turned into evening the two young women had gone to the 'big house' where they'd had their supper and were now sitting in the big main room around a blazing fire doing some sewing as they talked about the rumours coming from further north. The main rumour was that there'd been a big fight up near Fort Stanwick, however no one knew how it had turned out. The most popular theory was that the 'Patriot' forces had won but no one knew for sure.

To Dawn this was all very strange, although she'd never paid very much attention to what went on outside Sunnydale, she was used to almost instant communication with the rest of the world. Fort Stanwick was slightly less than thirty miles away. Even so, with what little news they were receiving it might as well been on the dark side of the moon. Of course the men who'd fallen out of the column heading up to attack the British held fort, because they were too old or unfit to march through the wilderness, had brought back some news. However, the last man to return; a fellow by the name of Jones who'd been injured in a skirmish with some Indians, had only brought the news that there'd been no real fighting up 'til the time he'd been shot.

So, the women had to stay at home trying to keep the farms going with only the help of the old men and children. In the evenings they'd sit around their fires and try not to let their imaginations run away with them. Looking out into the night, Marcel found her imagination start to play tricks on her; although her father had been sent home she still had two brothers out there in the night. A flash of lightning illuminated the world outside and just for a second Marcel thought she saw a shambling column of scarecrow-like figures making their way slowly along the track towards the fort at German Flats. Blinded for a moment, Marcel couldn't see anything in the inky dark until another flash of lightning lit up the world with a stark blueish-white light that brought the scene outside into sharp focus.

“Mrs McKlennar!” Marcel gasped as she realised that what she was seeing wasn't phantoms but the remains of the militia expedition as it made its way home, “Mrs McKlennar, Dawn! Come quick and look!”

“What's wrong, girl?” Mrs McKlennar replied a little angry at having to get up out of her comfortable seat by the fire, she joined Marcel by the window and looked out, “Oh my Lord!” she gasped as she saw the lines of wounded and exhausted men make their way through the night. “DAISY!” she called loudly, which was pretty unnecessary as the black maid was only a few feet away, “Get blankets and cloth for bandages...”

“What's going on?” Dawn asked as she levered herself up onto her feet and went to join the other two women at the window.

“Its the militia,” Mrs McKlennar replied, “they've come back...well, most of 'em have...” just for a moment the older woman paused as if steeling herself for what would happen next, “...come on, they'll need some help.”

Turning away from the window, Mrs McKlennar picked up a shawl and wrapped it around her head and shoulders before heading outside into the storm.

Carrying lanterns the four women rushed out into the night. The sight that greeted them made them stop in shock at the garden gate. When the men had marched away from German Flats it had been with fifes and drums playing 'Yankee Doodle' and other popular patriotic tunes. The men had marched proudly and with determination as they headed out to protect their homes. But now as those self same men came home again not one drum or fife played and the men didn't march. Many could only walk with the help of comrades who held them up even though the men helping their injured friends looked fit to drop. All were soaked to the skin and filthy, the smell of wet bodies and equipment came to Dawn's nose almost making her throw-up. Those men who were wounded sported blood soaked bandages, others didn't have any bandages at all. 

“Have you seen Alexander Harris?” Dawn asked the passing men as she stepped out onto the road, “Xander?” she called as she raised her lantern high and watched the men pass; looking into their stunned and exhausted faces she realised she had to help, “Can we take them inside?” she asked Mrs McKlennar.

“Of course,” the older woman replied soberly as she started to direct the most seriously wounded to her house.

“Have you seen Xander Harris?” Dawn asked as she helped a wounded soldier towards the house, the man just looked at her with blank eyes and said nothing.

As Dawn was helping Daisy inside the house a farm wagon stopped by the gate, the wagon was full of men who couldn't walk one of whom was General Herkimer, he's been shot through the knee. Adam Helmer and a couple of other men carried him into the house followed my Mrs McKlennar and Marcel who'd been searching for her brothers.

“I'm Robert Johnson, Ma'am,” announced a young man as Mrs McKlennar stood on her veranda watching as the general was carried into her home, “surgeon for the First Regiment New York Line...”

“Well, don't just stand there yapping,” Mrs McKlennar replied tartly, “go on in there and see to the general.”

“Yes Ma'am,” the young doctor hurried off into the house leaving Mrs McKlennar with a few men who were so dazed they didn't realise they were home.

Moving over to stand in front of a man she recognised, Mrs McKlennar bent to look the man in the eye, “Martin, where's Alexander?”

The man 'Martin' simply stared back at Mrs McKlennar and said not a word. Sighing sadly Mrs McKlennar placed a hand on the man's dirty and unshaven face and patted it gently, “never mind,” she said before turning and going back into her house.

xXx

Inside the house wounded men lay on the floor or sat propped up against the walls as their friends and neighbours did what they could for them. Daisy, Marcel and Dawn rushed between the injured men with water and bandages while over by the fire several local men stood around the high backed bench that General Herkimer had been lain out on so the surgeon could work on his leg. Walking between the wounded and over to where the general lay as the surgeon cut off his breaches, Mrs McKlennar looked down at the old soldier.

“Well, General Herkimer,” she said as she tossed her wet shawl to one side, “a fine mess you got y'self into this time.”

“I tell this fellow to go away,” the general gestured to the young doctor, “look after the young ones...”

“Shut up!” Mrs McKlennar snapped, “You're not giving orders in this house...” seeing that the doctor had exposed the general's wound, she bent to get a closer look, “...what about it?”

Having been married to a soldier at the age of seventeen, Mrs McKlennar had seen and treated many a wound in her time; she also knew when a wound had begun to fester and the only sure course of action was to cut the injured limb off.

“Oh my,” she gasped quietly as she studied the mass of bloody flesh and bone that had once been the general's knee.

“Its already mortified, Ma'am,” announced the doctor, “I...it'll have to come off...”

“Ja, widow?” the general asked as he looked up at Mrs McKlennar.

“Ja,” the old soldier's wife replied sadly.

“Wait until I light my pipe?” General Herkimer asked; Mrs McKlennar turned and got a burning twig from the fire and held it while the old general lit his pipe. “Excuse me doctor,” Herkimer said as the doctor tied a tourniquet around his leg above his knee, “have you ever cut off a leg before?”

“Erm, no sir I haven't,” replied the doctor.

“Well no need to look ashamed,” the general joked, “a man has to start somewhere.”

xXx

Torn between wanting to help the sick and injured and looking for Xander, Dawn eventually gave in and went back outside into the rain. Standing on the veranda holding a lantern high and peering into the rain swept dark she could see that the road was now clear. All the soldiers had passed by and there was no way Xander wouldn't have stopped and come home. Pulling a shawl over her head she stepped out into the rain and walked down to the road. Wishing she wasn't pregnant and she could run, she started to walk along the track calling Xander's name as she went. Just as she was about to lose all hope of ever seeing her husband again, Dawn heard someone calling her name.

“Dawnie...” the voice called softly.

Turning and peering into the dark she saw Xander sitting on the side of the track propped up by a fence post.

“XANDER!” Dawn cried as she rushed to his side, getting down on her knees in the rain she didn't notice that she was getting soaked to the skin as she hugged Xander and sobbed with relief, “I thought I'd lost you...”

“Take more than a few hundred Indians and Redcoats to stop me from coming home to you,” Xander joked weakly, “of course there weren't any actual Redcoats just lots and lots of Indians.”

“Are you hurt?” Dawn asked urgently as she started to look for any wounds Xander might have received.

“My arm,” Xander replied as Dawn frantically looked for the wound and imagined the doctor sawing off Xander's arm, “its just a flesh wound, I've had worse...but I think I must've picked up a fever or something.”

“Here, lean on me,” Dawn got back to her feet and started to help him to his feet.

“I'm okay,” Xander insisted as he got unsteadily to his feet, “shouldn't you be helping the guys who are really sick?”

“No!” Dawn replied firmly, “You're my husband and you come first.”

“Gee thanks,” Xander joked as he placed his arm around Dawn's shoulder and let her guide him to their house. “Oh...I'm forgetting my manners...how are you and how's the baby?”

“We're both fine,” Dawn replied, “now shut up and let me help you...welcome home Xander Harris.”

“Thanks,” Xander sighed tiredly, “you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that.”

xXx

Once back in their house, Dawn helped Xander to sit in his chair by the fireplace before throwing a few more logs on the fire and stirring up the embers until a good blaze started to grow and helped light up the room. After placing a cauldron of water over the fire, Dawn took her dressmaking scissors and started to cut off Xander's, filthy wet clothes. Throwing the rags over by the door, they could be burnt tomorrow, Dawn eventually got to the wound in Xander's arm. Peeling away the rough field dressing, her nose wrinkled as she smelt the wound. There was a lot of blood and pus, but the actual wound didn't look too bad. Having treated her sister's injuries and those of the potentials, Dawn had a good idea of what she was supposed to do. In the absence of modern disinfectants it seemed to her that the best thing to do was to clean the wound thoroughly and cover it with a new clean dressing. Knowing that she was going to have to hurt Xander as she cleaned out the wound she told him to tell her what had happened so as to take his mind off her working on him.

“Cold...” Xander muttered; Dawn stopped what she was doing for a moment to put a blanket over him, “...I was wondering how long we'd be away,” Xander said as if Dawn wasn't there, “there was this crackling sound and the guy beside me stopped talking...he fell over onto his side...then I heard a whistle...shots...someone shot at me...an ambush...I saw General Herkimer slide off his mule and grab his knee...Pete Taylor with his hip blown half off...” Xander stopped speaking and winced as Dawn started to clean out his wound.

“I'm sorry, honey,” Dawn wiped away the tears that were clouding her eyes before getting back to work.

“Someone told me to kneel down behind a rock...then I saw 'em...all smeared with paint...yellow and red...all colours...” once again Xander stopped talking as the pain of what Dawn was doing got too much, he turned his head away so he wouldn't be tempted to look and Dawn wouldn't be able to see the pain in his eye, “there were white guys in green coats...I got down behind the rock and aimed at a guy, I fired but I don't know if I hit him.”

Looking at the wound Dawn saw it was clean and she could apply a new dressing, getting up she rushed over to a the table where she'd left some clean petticoats she could rip up for bandages and she started to make a pad to cover the wound.

“After that we kept shooting as fast as we could load until General Herkimer said it was time to go home...”

Dawn placed the pad over the wound before using her sharp teeth to rip up pieces of petticoat into strips for bandages and started to wrap them around the dressing on Xander's arm.

“Angel...” Xander gasped out as if he'd almost forgotten something.

“W-what?” Dawn's hands froze for a moment as she heard the familiar name.

“Angel...” Xander repeated, “...he was there.”

“No it couldn't be him,” Dawn tried to reassure Xander, “the battle was in daylight right? So, he couldn't be there...”

“He was human,” Xander explained, “he was an officer on the Tory side...we fought but he let me get away.”

“No, you must be wrong,” Dawn replied as she tied off the bandage, “what would Angel be doing in America...now?”

“Fighting for the British?” Xander replied.

“Whatever,” Dawn said as she threw the bloody rags she'd used into the fire, “look, I'm going to clean you up, get you something to eat and then get you to bed...do you think you can stay awake long enough for me to do that?”

“Sure...” Xander smiled weakly as he reached out to take one of Dawn's hands in his own, “you're the best, Dawnie.”

“Totally,” Dawn forced a smile, “but lets get you clean, fed and in bed before you start to throw a party for me.”

It took Dawn some time to get Xander washed and fed. Getting him upstairs to their bedroom was harder to do than to say. Eventually, Dawn had got her husband into bed, it was only then that she realised just how cold and wet she was. Stripping off her own wet clothes and leaving them on the floor next to the bed, they could be washed and dried later, Dawn didn't bother putting on her night gown and got into bed next to Xander. Snuggling up to him to keep herself as well as him warm she pulled up the blankets and quilts until they were in a warm, snug nest just like on that first night in their old house. Blowing out the candle, Dawn said a short prayer to whoever might be listening and thanked them for bringing her Xander back to her; if not well then at least alive.

xXx


	13. Chapter 13

13.

“Morning...” Dawn said quietly as Xander opened his eye, “...how do you feel?”

“Like something crawled into my mouth and died,” Xander replied as he pushed himself up onto his pillow and into a sitting position.

“Eww,” Dawn sat up and turned to face her husband before reaching out and touching his forehead with the back of her hand, “feels like you've still got a little fever...you better stay in bed today...”

“Aww, do I have to mom?”

“Yes,” Dawn replied firmly as Xander reached out to touch her face.

“God you're so beautiful,” he sighed.

“That's nice to hear, but just at the moment I don't feel very beautiful,” Dawn sulked, “my boobs are all swollen and tender, I feel like totally bloated and you really don't wanna see my ankles.”

“Want to bet?” Xander grabbed hold of Dawn and pulled her close.

“Hey!” Dawn squeaked as she fell into Xander's embrace, “You're supposed to be sick.” 

“Yeah I know,” Xander agreed as he held Dawn to him, “but I've not seen the prettiest girl in German Flats for over two weeks.”

“You haven't?” Dawn asked with mock anger, “Who is she? I want to know right now!”

“You dope!” Xander replied as he gave Dawn a long, slow kiss as he ran his hands over her breasts and belly, “I love you Dawn,” he sighed as their lips parted for a moment.

“Then I better get on top so you can show me just how much you love me,” Dawn grinned as she climbed astride her husband, “I'll do all the work, I mean I wouldn't want to wear you out or anything...”

xXx

Ten minutes later Dawn and Xander lay in each others arms and relaxed after their little bout of love making.

“Was it okay for you?” Xander asked.

“Gotta say, Xan,” Dawn sighed heavily, “so, not your best work...”

“What!?” Xander sat up straight dislodging Dawn from her comfy resting place, “I mean, _not_ my best work? I heard you...arrive!”

“Oh yeah,” Dawn grinned, “I did but it still wasn't your best work. I put it down to you still being tired and sick...we can try again later if you want.”

“Too right we will!” Xander replied his ego a little dented.

“Okay that's a date,” Dawn replied as she started to get out of bed and look for some clothes to wear, “now I'm going to go down stairs and make you breakfast in bed.”

“No I'll come down and help,” Xander started to climb out of bed only to have Dawn try to push him back in it again.

“No you're still sick!” Dawn explained as they struggled on the bed together.

“Look, just because I wasn't up to your expectations you want to keep me a prisoner in bed?”

“No, Xander,” Dawn stopped struggling for a moment, “you've been sick, shot even and I don't want to lose you.”

“Lose me?” Xander shrugged unsure at what Dawn was getting at, “I'm not going anywhere...”

“No I mean _lose_ you...like dead,” Dawn wiped at the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes, “damn hormones...”

“Look, Dawnie,” once again Xander pulled Dawn to him and held her close, “look we won...”

“What!?” for a moment Dawn pulled herself free of Xander's grasp, “Sounded to me like you got your asses kicked!”

“Whatever,” Xander shrugged as he once again pulled Dawn into his arms, “look, the Indians and the British won't be back for ages if they come back at all. I doubt they'll be calling the militia out again.”

“You think?” Dawn wasn't so sure.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded his head firmly.

“Wanna try for the second coming?” Dawn smiled impishly into her husband's eye.

“I thought you'd never ask,” Xander pulled Dawn back onto the bed, “and this time I'll try harder...”

xXx

Half an hour later they were both dressed and downstairs in the main room, Xander was going through his military equipment deciding what could be repaired and what needed to be replaced while Dawn was over by the fire cooking bacon and eggs.

“Xander,” Dawn called as she took fried bacon from her pan and placed it on two plates along with the eggs, “last night when I got you back here you were pretty out of it and you were going on about seeing Angel.”

Taking the plates she put them on the table next to the loaf she'd baked the previous day. Going back to the fire she picked up the coffee pot and came back to fill their cups.

“Sorry there's no milk,” Dawn explained.

“Not a problem,” Xander sat down and sipped his hot coffee before starting to eat his breakfast, “I'm used to having it black and yeah, I saw Angel.”

“You sure?” Dawn asked her fork half way to her mouth.

“Couldn't be anyone else,” Xander informed Dawn around a mouthful of bread and bacon, “same high forehead, same, dark broody eyes...”

“And you're sure it was daylight so not vampire-Angel or Angelus?”

“Sure as eggs are eggs,” Xander took another sip of his coffee, “no fangs or lumpy forehead.”

“I wonder what happened?” Dawn asked quietly.

“Happened?”

“Yeah, like what he's doing here and why isn't he a vampire?”

“What he was doing,” Xander explained with a lopsided grin, “was trying to kill me and maybe that Darla bitch didn't vamp him out and his dad made him join the army or something...but that doesn't sound right.”

“What doesn't sound right?” Dawn asked as she mopped up egg yoke with a piece of bread.

“Look,” Xander stopped eating as he thought hard for a moment, “from what I remember of what Buffy told me, I mean if the dates I remember are right, Angle would be middle aged man by now, maybe this is sorta 'Son of Angel'?”

“Yeah maybe,” Dawn paused for a moment as she remembered something Xander had said, “You said he was trying to kill you?” 

“Look Dawn,” Xander reached across the table to hold Dawn's hand, “we were sorta on different sides and in a battle they encourage that sort of stuff.”

“Yeah okay,” Dawn realised she might be reading too much into what might just be a chance encounter with someone they thought they both knew.

“Odd thing was,” Xander mused, “he seemed to recognise me...”

“He did!?” Dawn's paranoia was once again on full alert.

“Yeah,” Xander nodded again, “we sorta saw each other and...”

“And?”

“He sorta said 'you' like we'd met before,” Xander explained as best he could.

“Damn him,” Dawn threw her knife and fork onto her plate with great force, any harder and she'd have broken one of the few plates they owned, “I never liked him you know,” she informed Xander, “even when he was dating Buffy and she was going all moody about him all the time, Xander...”

“Uh-huh?” Xander hadn't seen Dawn quite this annoyed since...well, since forever.

“Promise me that the next time you see him you shoot him or something!”

“Yes dear.”

“I'll not have potential vamps or sons of vamps or whatever coming 'round spoiling things...”

“No dear.”

“And stop calling me 'dear'!”

“No...erm...sweetheart?”

“Better,” Dawn took a deep breath and calmed herself down, “sorry...”

“Sorry for what?” Xander asked uncertainly.

“Snapping at you and demanding you shoot Angel,” Dawn sighed, “its the hormones messing with my head...sorry...do you want to...you know...we can do it down here and I'll lean across the table so you can...”

“No, Dawnie...thank-you,” Xander smiled, “twice this morning is quite enough for me and on a full stomach not such a good idea.”

“Talk about a full stomach,” Dawn grinned and stroked her bulging tummy, “you know eventually I'll be too big for me to even go on top and we've got two weeks or more to make up!”

“And you used to be such a sweet innocent girl,” Xander sighed sadly, “what happened to you Dawnie.”

“You happened,” Dawn smirked, “grabbing me in the hay field like that.”

“As I recall you didn't complain.”

“Nope,” Dawn replied dismissively as she got up and started to clear the table, “I'd sorta been planning for it to happen for a couple of weeks!” she laughed at the look on Xander's face, “Now you stay here, if you want to do something you can clean up a little, I'm going over to the big house, see if Mrs McKlennar needs any help...okay?”

xXx

Picking up a shawl and putting it around her shoulders, Dawn opened the door and stepped outside; she was surprised to find it was still early, she'd guessed it was much later. The sky was blue with a few white clouds moving slowly in the light breeze that blew in from the east. The storm had passed and if it wasn't for all the big puddles that made the farm yard look like one of those photographs from the First World War, you'd never had dreamed there'd been a terrible storm the night before. Avoiding the muddy water, Dawn made her way over to the 'big house'. Stepping up onto the veranda she opened the front door and almost collided with the army doctor she'd seen the night before.

“Hi Doctor,” Dawn said happily, she was so glad to have Xander home and more or less well that she didn't think there was anything that could spoil her mood today, “how's General Herkimer?”

“General Herkimer's dead,” the doctor replied; Dawn felt her heart miss a beat and all her joy at having Xander back home left her, “I couldn't stop the bleeding...”

“...I am the resurrection and the light, sayth the Lord,” Reverend Rosenkrantz's voice came to Dawn's ears from inside the house, the words were followed by a roll on the drum of a drummer who led a small, sad procession out through the door, “he that believeth in me though he was dead...”

Standing to one side, Dawn watched as the soldiers and militia men carried the body of the old soldier out into the morning air, their muskets reversed and hanging from their shoulders. After the last man had left the house, Mrs McKlennar appeared next to Dawn and they watched as the forlorn little procession made its way towards the fort.

“He might not have been a brilliant soldier,” Mrs McKlennar told Dawn, “but he was a good, sweet man...” after taking a deep breath the older woman turned to look at Dawn, “...how's Alexander?”

“Good...” Dawn replied her eyes still on the general and his escort, “...I mean he was shot...a little and he's still got a fever, but he'll be okay soon.”

“Good,” Mrs McKlennar placed her hand gently on Dawn's shoulder, “they'll be too many widows before this war is over, I hope and I pray you'll not be one of them.”

xXx

Time heals most things and by October, Xander had fully recovered from his experiences during the Fort Stanwick campaign. Life on the farm had gone slowly back to normal and Dawn's belly had grown and grown until one bright, fine Fall day...

“I don't know what they do with all this boiling water,” Adam Helmer said as he put another log on to the fire under the cauldron that he and Xander had set up outside the house.

“Its to keep the husband occupied so he doesn't get in the way,” Xander sat on a tree stump smoking a pipe and giving every impression of not having a care in the world; deep inside he was actually terrified of what was happening to Dawn up in their bedroom, he also had images of a vengeful Buffy coming after him for doing this to her sister.

“You think?” Adam paused in his work for a moment, before adding, “I don't know how you can be so calm.”

“Calm!?” Xander's voice rose a little as his panic mounted, “Me calm!? Between you me and...” Xander gestured at a nearby cow with his pipe, “...that cow over there I'm terrified...I'm terrified that Dawn might die, I'm terrified the baby might die I'm terrified that **I** might die...”

“You need a drink,” Adam stood with his hands on his hips and smiled down at his friend.

“No thanks,” Xander cast a look towards the smoke house where, Captain Demooth, Christian Real, George Weaver and John Big Tree were sitting passing a big jug of moonshine whisky back and forth.

Before Xander could say anything else a wail of pain came from the open, upstairs window of his and Dawn's house.

“Xander Levalle Harris!” Dawn's voice floated down to where Xander now stood.

“Dawnie?” Xander called back.

“Don't you dare 'Dawnie' me!” Dawn called back, “And another thing Harris, if you ever, and I mean _ever_ , come near me again I'll shoot you with your own musket...OOOOW!”

“Don't worry,” Adam said supportively, “she doesn't mean it.”

“Doesn't mean it, huh?” Xander laughed bitterly, “If you believe that you obviously don't know Dawn as well as you thought you did...I'm going to lock up my musket, powder and shot just in case!”

“HA!” Adam laughed, but was silenced by another Dawn-like cry from above.

Pacing backwards and forwards in front of the house, Xander went back to imagining what was happening upstairs and wished they'd let him into the room so he could at least hold Dawn's hand. On about his thirtieth 'pace' Mrs Weaver, who'd been acting as mid-wife stuck her head out of the window.

“Alexander Harris!?”

“Ma'am?” Xander stopped his pacing and looked up.

“You come up here and see to your wife!”

“Yes ma'am...” for a moment Xander couldn't remember where the door was but a friendly shove from Adam soon had him heading in the right direction.

Climbing the stairs he bumped into Doctor Petry as he was heading down.

“Dawn?” Xander asked nervously.

“Fine, fine,” Petry replied as he polished his glasses in a very Giles-like way, “She's a healthy, strong, young woman...”

“The baby?”

“Fit as a fiddle with a good set of lungs,” the doctor cracked a grin, “do you have any brandy in the house?”

“For the baby?” Xander frowned.

“No you fool,” the doctor laughed, “for you, you look as if you could do with a stiff drink!”

“What?”

“Go and see your family,” Petry advised before patting Xander on the shoulder and heading on down the stairs no doubt to follow his own advice about having a drink.

At the door to the bedroom Xander met Mrs Weaver, “How is she, Jessie?” he asked.

“Fine,” Mrs Weaver nodded her head, “you know, women have been having babies since the dawn of time, she's fine now go and see her...”

With surprising reluctance Xander reached to opened the door to the bedroom, he knew that once he'd opened that door, things would change, he'd change. In a way he'd only been playing at being the husband and he suspected that Dawn had been playing at being his wife. Now there was someone relying on them both, they'd have to grow up and stop playing. Taking a deep breath he opened the door and walked into the room. Looking down at Dawn he noticed how tied she looked, but also how happy she seemed. Then he noticed the small bundle lying next to his wife he realised that yes, life would never be the same again.

“Hi Xan,” Dawn said quietly as she looked up at him, she moved to pull the sheet away from the baby's face, “look what we've got...its a baby boy...”

“He's...” Xander sat down on the edge of the bed and found he was lost for words.

“I thought we'd call him Thomas...”

“W-why...?”

“Why not?” Dawn frowned, “Tom Harris is a good strong sounding name...its the sort of name that ends up in the history books...Tom Harris the man who led the first expedition to the north pole, that sort of thing...of course if you don't like it...”

“No!” Xander exclaimed, “I think its a wonderful name...”

“You can name the next one,” Dawn added.

“The next one?” Xander replied uncertainly.

“Oh we've gotta have more...” Dawn smiled, “...I mean I want a daughter, as long as we don't call her 'Buffy'!”

xXx


	14. Chapter 14

14.

**Spring, 1778.**

The fiddlers played a lively reel as the dancers danced in the lantern lit courtyard behind Mrs McKlennar's house. Just about everyone who was anyone in German Flats (which actually did mean 'everyone') was there to celebrate the marriage of Adam Helmer to Mary Real. Mary was the Real's eldest daughter and at the age of nearly twenty-four people had sort of assumed that she'd die an old maid; Dawn had even suspected that she might be gay. As it turned out Mary wasn't gay she was just choosy and the man she eventually chose was Adam Helmer, Xander's best male buddy and a regular caller at Dawn and Xander's house.

Both of the Harris' had been shocked to their very core when Adam announced that he was going to marry Mary in the spring; Adam had always appeared to be one of those confirmed bachelors. He liked going hunting and when he wasn't out in the woods he was at the tavern in the fort chasing the bar wenches. He was really just a big, amiable kid who was thirty-something going on seventeen. If anyone would have asked Dawn if she ever thought Adam would marry and settle down she'd have laughed in your face at the very idea.

However, Adam and Mary had got married, they'd got married that very morning, so, Dawn told herself he'd done half of what she'd never expected him to do; it now remained to be seen whether he would manage the 'settling down' part of the deal. Watching Mary throughout the day, Dawn had to admit that she looked happy enough, but then again brides tended to look happy on their wedding day. Just for a moment, Dawn felt a little let down, she'd never had a wedding day, legally speaking Xander and herself weren't actually married. Their family bible said that the Dawn and Alexander Harris who actually belonged to this time were married, once again Dawn wondered what had happened to them and she hoped they were alive and well wherever they'd ended up.

Sitting watching the dancers dance some sort of barn dance come highland reel, Dawn clapped in time with the tune. On her lap sat little Thomas Harris who giggled as he clapped his hands and tried to keep time with his mother. Dawn was too intent on the dance and the antics of her son so she didn't at first notice when Mary sat down beside her.

“Hello Dawn,” Mary said as she sat down next to Dawn, “I just wanted to come over and thank you for throwing us such a wonderful wedding party.”

“No problemo!” Dawn smiled forgetting not to use up time phrases, she'd had a couple of glasses of her home made cider and was, as a result, just a little bit tipsy, “You're both our friends and it was the very least we could do...”

“Well, I just wanted to say thanks,” Mary hesitated and even in her slightly squiffy state Dawn recognised the signs of someone who wanted to talk.

“So,” Dawn hitched Tom more firmly up onto her lap as she turned to look at her friend, “what's up? If you're having second thoughts its a little late now.”

“No its not that,” Mary paused for a moment, “its...”

“It's what?”

“It's...” Mary sighed heavily, “...it's just that you and Alexander seem so happy together I was wondering if you could give me some advice...on how to be married, you know?”

“Advice!” Dawn nearly laughed in Mary's face, “I'm not even nineteen and you want advice?” Dawn asked incredulously, “From me?”

“Yes, of course,” Mary went on to explain, “The pair of you seem so happy and contented and it doesn't seem to matter to you what life throws in your way, it just seems to draw you closer.”

“Yeah,” Dawn thought for a moment; she supposed it must look that way when in reality it was the fact that they were both lost and scared that had brought Xander and herself together so quickly and completely, “Okay, like advice, huh?”

Mary nodded and looked hopeful as Dawn collected her thoughts.

“Okay, look, this is like what I've found works...” Dawn took a deep breath, “...don't try to change him, he'll change of his own accord given time...”

Mary frowned but nodded her head in agreement.

“Don't be a nag,” Dawn warned, “coz like, no likes a nag...I mean look at Mrs Demooth!” Both young women chuckled at that, “And don't use your body to blackmail Adam so as to get what you want...”

Dawn was feeling pretty grown up just now, she liked playing 'Dawn the Agony Aunt'.

“Erm, what about...” Mary whispered, “...'relations'?”

“Relations?” Dawn repeated, “You mean like your mom and dad?”

“No...” Mary looked really embarrassed, “..I mean...you know... _relations_ between Adam and I?” 

“Relations...” finally the penny dropped through the molasses of Dawn's mind, “...Oh! You mean sex!” she said slightly too loudly causing a few of the nearer guests to glance at the two young women. “Yeah,” Dawn continued as she ignored the looks she was getting, “At least once a day and twice on Sunday...” Dawn paused before adding, “...I'd suggest once before church and once after. Before, so it prepares you for one of our _dear_ Reverend's overly long sermons and after because it gives you something to look forward to when you're sitting on those hard benches.”

“Oh,” Mary replied slightly stunned.

“Yep,” Dawn nodded, “that's old mother Dawn's advice for a happy marriage, plenty of _relations_ , coz if he's having _relations_ with you he won't be off screwing someone else!”

“Screwing?” Mary asked puzzled by Dawn's comment.

“Whatever,” Dawn shrugged as she struggled to keep hold of Thomas, “Look, little Tom is starting to get tired and grumpy, do you want to help me put him to bed? We can talk more,” she glared at an older woman who appeared to be eavesdropping on her conversation with Mary, “without people's ears flapping like an elephant's!”

Getting up from her seat, Dawn carried Tom over to her house while Mary walked beside her.

“Are you pregnant?” Dawn asked out of the blue; Mary almost stumbled as she gasped at the question, “I ask because I noticed you were being careful what you were eating and drinking...”

“Yes!” Mary replied after a moment's thought, “But I kept my legs firmly crossed until after Adam had asked me to marry him in front of my parents and witnesses.”

“Good,” Dawn pushed the door to her house open, “so, he's not marrying you out of guilt or because he's 'doing the right thing'...” Dawn pointed to a lit candle that was standing on the table in the middle of the room, “...could you get that, I'll never get used to not having electricity...”

“Elec-what?” Mary paused as she picked up the candlestick.

“Nothing!” Dawn replied quickly as she cursed herself for her slip of the tongue, “So, how far along are you?”

“About six weeks.”

“So, no one will totally notice then,” Dawn announced as she started to climb the stairs, “anyway you've probably noticed that like most first babies tend to come along in less than nine months.”

“Now that you mention it,” Mary giggled making the light from the candle flicker, “they do don't they?”

“Sure do,” Dawn nodded as she pushed her way into her and Xander's bedroom, “you know before too long Xander's going to have to build this one his own room...” she turned her attention to her son and asked, “hey, Tom you hungry?”

The child held out his little chubby arms to his mother and wailed softly.

“That's his, 'I could eat' cry,” Dawn explained as she put down Tom on her bed and started to unlace her top.

“He has more that one 'cry'?” Mary asked as she sat on the bed next to Dawn.

“Oh yes,” Dawn now had her left breast bare and she picked up her boy and held him close to her nipple, Tom started to suck nosily, “he has his, 'I need changing' cry, then there's his, 'I'm _really_ hungry cry'...that one's very like his father's. Then there's his 'I'm bored and want attention' cry.” Dawn swapped breasts, “Another thing you need to remember is always try and make sure you feed your kid from both breasts. If you don't you get all lopsided and start walking around in circles and bumping into things.”

“You do?” Mary wasn't sure if Dawn was joking.

“I'm joking,” Dawn smirked, “at least about the walking in circles part, the lopsided thing is true thought and a total bitch!”

“Dawn!” Mary giggled, “Some times you say the strangest things.”

“It's the cider,” Dawn explained as she started to burp her sleepy son, “that's another thing, what you eat and drink goes into your milk. If you drink too much coffee your baby's gonna be bouncing around the room like a very bouncy thing. If like me, coz I'm such a terrible mother, and drink just a little too much cider you're baby's going to fall to sleep very much like this one has.” Tom now had his thumb in his mouth and was fast asleep. “Now this can be very useful if you want to get some sleep yourself or if you want to have 'relations' with you husband. But I wouldn't do it too often, its probably bad for the baby.”

After undressing Tom, changing his diaper and putting him in his sleeping clothes the two young women headed for the door. As she was closing the bedroom door, Dawn paused for a moment to look back at her son and realised how lucky she was. She was married to a man she loved and who loved her, she had a baby, a home and she was surrounded by people who liked and respected her and like she'd told Mary, she wasn't even nineteen yet.

“I wish this could last forever,” Dawn said to herself quietly.

“What was that?” Mary asked.

“Oh,” Dawn sighed sadly, “I was just hoping that everything could go on like this forever...but I know it won't. Something is bound to come along and spoil things.”

“That's sad,” Mary replied.

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed, “but going on what my life was like before I came here, I'm guessing this is the calm before the storm.”

“What was you're life like before you came to live here, Dawn?” Mary asked as she led the way downstairs.

“You totally wouldn't believe the half of it,” Dawn started to explain, “but at least I had my mom and my big sister they both loved me, poor Xander just had his drunken parents...”

“Oh dear...” Mary gasped.

“But this is supposed to be your party and not a wake,” Dawn forced her sad memories to the back of her mind, “what say we try some more of my cider, get drunk and have Reverend Rosenkrantz call us harlots and Jezebels next Sunday!”

xXx

**Late Summer, 1778.**

“Phew!” Dawn gasped as she lay on her back in the meadow; her blouse was open to expose her breasts and her skirts were up around her hips, “That totally hit the spot!”

“You are such a slut, Dawn Harris,” Xander said as he looked down at his wife, “show you a meadow and you fall flat on your back with your legs in the air!”

“Yeah, what can I say?” Dawn giggled, “I think I must have a thing about fields...” she thought for a moment looking for an explanation, “...it must be because the first time we made love it was in that field...hey, we still own that don't we?”

“Sure,” Xander was still surprised how easily Dawn could go from one subject to another wildly disconnected one, “but I don't know when we'll ever get to move back up there.”

“Maybe we could start rebuilding?” Dawn suggested.

“Whatever, I've got more important things to do just know.”

“Like what?” Dawn demanded.

“Like this,” Xander bent his head and kissed Dawn's lips again as his hand caressed her breast.

“Hmmmm, yes please,” Dawn moaned as she responded to Xander's advances just before Tom started to cry, “Damn-it!” Dawn groaned in disappointment, “Tom Harris the most effective contraceptive in the world!”

Lying on his back Xander smiled as he watched Dawn rearrange her clothing and get up to see what was wrong with their boy.

“He knows what we're doing you know?” Dawn called from over by the small wagon where she'd left Tom lying, “Its his way of stopping us from having anymore kids.”

“Look Dawnie,” Xander said with a laugh, “I'm sure between us we can outsmart one little baby...”

“And he's not so little anymore,” Dawn came and sat down next to Xander again and put Tom to her breast and started to nurse him, “he's a great hulking brute...just like his father.”

“Who me?” Xander replied with hurt innocence.

“Yes you,” Dawn sulked, “I reckon you're both in cahoots...”

“Cahoots?”

“Yeah,” Dawn swapped Tom to her other breast, “this is some sort of cunning plan you two have hatched. You know I want a daughter and this is a sneaky way to prevent me from getting pregnant again!”

“Again...” Xander smiled.

“And you can wipe that smirk off your face,” Dawn snapped and then in a much softer tone she asked, “what are you smirking about anyway?”

“Oh...I was just thinking about what Buffy would say if she saw us now.”

“Buffy!?” Dawn laughed so hard Tom let go of her nipple and started to grumble, “Sorry sweetie,” Dawn said as reattached Tom to her breast, she looked at Xander, “I don't think she'd say anything...”

“You mean you think she'd be pleased?”

“No, I think she'd be too busy throwing a fit!”

“Yeah you're probably right,” realising that his chances of more sex with Dawn that afternoon was out of the question; Xander stood up and buttoned up his trousers before walking over to the cart that held his fence mending tools and a jug of Dawn's 'not too strong' cider, the stuff you could drink _without_ going blind. Looking back towards the big house, Xander saw a wisp of smoke rising from the building. 

“Hey Dawn,” he called, “you didn't leave anything on the fire cooking did you?”

“No,” Dawn replied, “and you know darn well I've not set anything on fire for ages,” standing up Dawn looked back towards the house, “That's not a kitchen fire,” Dawn cried urgently, “Mrs McKlennar must have set something on fire...she'd probably been smoking her pipe in bed again, I keep telling her that's dangerous. We better get back and...”

“Hold on,” Xander screwed up his eye and watched for a couple of seconds, “CRAP!” he said grabbing for his musket, “Indians!”

“Where?”

“There!” Xander pointed, sure enough there were a couple of Indians standing near the house, “Stay here I'll...”

“I'm not staying here,” Dawn held on to her son with one hand as she fumbled with the neck of her blouse with the other, “I'm going with you.”

“Okay,” Xander knew it was pointless arguing when Dawn sounded so determined, “but get up into the cart and keep your head down.”

Scrambling up into the cart, Dawn watched as the smoke around the house got thicker. The Indians were nowhere in sight now as Xander took hold of the horses reins and turned the cart towards the house. Sitting in the bed of the cart, Dawn told herself that deep down she'd always known something like this was bound to happen to spoil everything. But, knowing didn't stop her crying into her son's hair.

xXx


	15. Chapter 15

15.

Up in her bedroom Mrs McKlennar was having an early afternoon nap; she'd not slept well the previous night and she'd found herself drifting off as she'd been trying to do the farm accounts. Dozing fitfully she heard the door to her room squeak as it opened.

“Is that you Daisy?” she asked sleepily and without opening her eyes, “Go away, go away...”

Unseen by Mrs McKlennar two slightly inebriated Indians stood in the doorway and stared at her in drunken disbelief, one held a lighted torch in his hand while the other held a jug of Dawn's 'really strong' cider. Even drunk the Indians made hardly a sound as they moved further into the room, eventually they came to the foot of Mrs McKlennar's bed. Neither of the young braves had seen anything quite like Mrs McKlennar or indeed her bed before. Their minds befuddled by Dawn's cider they didn't quite know what they were supposed to do next. 

Her nose twitching at the smell of the smoke coming from the Indian's torch, Mrs McKlennar slowly opened her eyes to see the Indian's at the foot of her bed.

“What do you want!?” Mrs McKlennar demanded fiercely as she came instantly awake and sat upright on her bed, “What are y'doin' here? Answer me!” she asked sharply, “What do you mean coming into my house!”

“Burn house,” the Indian holding the jug of cider slurred as he waved the jug about to point at the door, “go quick...”

“Don't you dare you filthy, drunken rascal!” Mrs McKlennar tried to stand up and confront the braves put was pushed back down onto her bed; eventually, after a short struggle, she managed to get to her feet.

Taking a swing at the Indian who carried the cider, she slapped his face hard enough to almost knock him off his feet and make him drop the cider jug. However, the Indian managed to save himself and his looted cider and staggered back to his feet as Mrs McKlennar pointed angrily at the opened door.

“Get outta here before I skin you alive,” Mrs McKlennar was really angry now, “What are you doing!?” she cried as she saw the Indian with the torch try to set fire to her bed, “MY BED!,” she screeched as she pushed the Indian away from her bed, “If I could get my hands on a butcher's knife I'd...”

The Indians had lost interest in Mrs McKlennar's bed and were now throwing odd pieces of furniture into the fireplace where they tried to set fire to them with their torch. Seeing that she wasn't going to be able to defeat the intruders by herself and unarmed, Mrs McKlennar ran to the door and called down the stairs.

“Daisy! Daisy!” she yelled, “Bring me my butcher's knife!”

Turning around she saw the Indian's attack her bed again, this was the same bed she'd shared with her husband Barney and she was very attached to it.

“My bed! My bed!” she cried in panic; where was that girl with her butchers knife she wondered as she moved towards the Indian's, “Take ya hands off that bed!”

Jumping onto her bed and directing a stream of abuse at the Indians, Mrs McKlennar prevented them from throwing her bed onto the blaze that had been started over by the fireplace. One of the Indians laughed shrilly before taking a swig of the extra strong cider and setting fire to the curtains. The other Indian lifted up Mrs McKlennar's petticoats, probably just to see if she actually had legs. For his curiosity he received a sharp, stinging slap to his arm.

“Stop that! Shame on you!” Mrs McKlennar snapped as the flames grew higher, sitting on the bed she started to issue orders, “Now get this bed outta here, come on quick!”

It was a sign of how drunk the Indians were that they didn't simply kill the old woman where she sat. Instead they picked up the bed with Mrs McKlennar still sitting on it and carried it towards the door.

“Quick!” Mrs McKlennar shrieked, “Get this bed outta here, hurry up!” 

The Indian's dutifully struggled with the bed until they came to the door which they found was too narrow for the bed to pass through. Jumping off the bed, Mrs McKlennar continued to berate the Indians as she cuffed them around their heads until they figured out how they could get the bed through the door by turning it onto its side. Keeping up a stream of abuse that would have made one of her dead husband's soldiers blush, Mrs McKlennar followed the Indians and her bed downstairs into the main room where she jumped back onto her bed and was carried to the front door.

“Hurry up you fools,” Mrs McKlennar yelled at the confused Indians; however, something was telling their drink clouded minds that this wasn't how things were supposed to go, “Hurry up or I'll cut ya balls off!”

Finding that the front door was just as narrow as the door upstairs and not knowing what to do next the Indians dropped the bed and stood around in confusion. There confusion didn't last long because just at that moment Xander appeared in the doorway, levelled his musket and shot the Indian who was holding the jug of cider. Struck in the forehead the Indian dropped his cider and fell to the floor the back of his head blown out by the musket ball. Climbing over the bed, Xander used the butt of his musket to smash in the other Indian's face. Blood flew everywhere and gushed from the Indian's ruined face before he eventually tripped over a stool and fell to join his brother. Once the Indians were dead Xander turned to deal with Mrs McKlennar as she sat on her bed her arms crossed stubbornly across her chest.

“Mrs McKlennar!” Dawn screamed as she took in the scene from the doorway; holding Tom in one arm she tried to grab hold of Mrs McKlennar with the other, “What are you doing?” she demanded as she struggled with the old lady, “You'll totally be burnt to death if you stay here!”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Mrs McKlennar replied as she settled herself more firmly on the bed, “without my bed!”

A moment later, Daisy appeared from the direction of the kitchen clutching a butcher's knife in her right hand. Gasping as she saw what was happening she dropped the knife and rushed to help Dawn try and pull her Mistress from her bed and get her outside.

“I've lived in this house all my life,” Mrs McKlennar explained stubbornly, “and no god-darn-hindu-indian is gonna chase me out!”

“But you'll burn to death!” Dawn repeated as she and Daisy struggled with the widow woman.

Having dispatched the Indians, Xander turned to see the three women struggling on and around the bed, it was time to act he told himself, as he strode towards the seat (or bed) of the conflict. Just as he was going to push everyone out of the way and grab Mrs McKlennar, Adam Helmer appeared in the doorway, musket in hand.

“Alexander!” he called taking in the scene before him, “We've got to get to the fort...the Williams place has already been burnt down and they say there's a thousand Indians heading our way! We've got to get to the fort.”

“Where's Mary?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Outside,” Adam replied, “We only just managed to get out before the Indians set fire to our place.

“Okay!” Xander called decisively, “Dawn you get what you can into the wagon and help Mary...Daisy save what you can but don't take too long we've only got a few minutes...Adam...” Xander nodded to where Mrs McKlennar still sat on her bed determined not to see it burnt, “...lend a hand would you?”

“No need,” Adam passed Xander his musket, bent down and grabbed the widow woman in his strong, bear-like arms. With only a quiet grunt of exertion Adam picked Mrs McKlennar up and threw her over his shoulder, “Come on Alexander, lets go!”

With only a quick glance over his shoulder, Xander headed on outside. Once out in the fresh air he could see Mary Helmer sitting in the back of his cart holding on to Tom. Looking to his right he saw Dawn running towards the cart with a bundle of bedding in her arms and her favourite skillet clutched in her right hand. Adam tossed Mrs McKlennar into the back of the cart next to Mary who grabbed the old woman with her free hand preventing her from jumping down and rushing back into the house to save her bed. Seeing that everything was more or less in order, Xander started to reload his musket.

“Dawn!” he called as Dawn threw their meagre belongings into the back of the cart, “you drive, Mary, Daisy you keep an eye on Mrs McKlennar and Tom,” he turned to his big friend, “Adam, it looks like its you and me to form the rear guard.”

“We'll show 'em,” Adam told Xander belligerently.

“Yeah we'll show 'em how well we can do a rearguard, right?” Xander cautioned, “No heroics...at least not until we've got the women to the fort.”

“Yeah,” Adam nodded as he restrained himself from chasing off after the Indians; for himself he didn't care whether his farm had been burnt, he could always rebuild, but now he had a wife and a child on the way he needed to think about them too, “There's no honour in leaving good women like Mary and Dawn widows.”

“Glad you see it that way,” Xander grinned as he hefted his now loaded musket in his hands, “come on lets get this show on the road.”

xXx

The courtyard inside the fort was crowded with refugees, men, women and children were either crying or were asking angry questions. Where had the Indians come from? Why hadn't there been any warning? Hadn't they defeated the Indians last year? Were they all going to die?

“Oh almighty god,” the Reverend Rosenkrantz, never one not to use any tragedy to further his own beliefs, was standing on a barrel preaching to the worried and frightened people crammed into the courtyard, “with who's assistance we will strike the Philistines hip and thigh...”

Dawn couldn't held thinking as she held Tom's sleeping body to her own that she'd much rather have had god stop the Indians from attacking in the first place. 

“...with great slaughter,” the Reverend lifted his arms to the sky, “Help thy people now, gerd up their loins for the coming battle, put courage in our hearts that we may drive our enemies back into the wilderness...for we only know too well what will happen to us if these sons of Beelzebub get over these walls,” he pointed to the still open gate, “or come in through that gate, which with thy permission I now order closed...”

Several men ran to the gates and swung them shut and placing a great wooden beam into heavy brackets to keep it shut.

“...Amen,” the Reverend finally stopped talking.

“Perhaps now we can get ourselves organised,” Dawn whispered to Mary who was standing next to her, “you stay with me Mary, I'll see you through this...”

Dawn's opinion of Rosenkrantz had never been very high, she thought of him as little more than a vicious gossip. Her feelings towards him hadn't been improved when after Mary and Adam's wedding party the 'Reverend' had referred to Dawn and Mary as 'Harlots' and 'Jezebels' after they'd got a little drunk on cider at the party. Rosenkrantz hadn't named names of course but he had looked very pointedly at both Dawn and Mary when he'd warned his congregation about the dangers of women drinking and getting drunk. 

“You're very brave,” Mary pointed out.

“Hey look,” Dawn shrugged, “when you've lived the life I have its either be brave or give up and I'm not one for giving up.”

“Tether all the animals,” cried Reverend Rosenkrantz, “you women and children go into the church...”

“Hey who put him in charge?” Dawn wanted to know, “Where's Captain Demooth?”

“Follow the sound of the screams and you'll find Mrs Demooth,” Mary replied with a grin as they headed towards the church.

Any thought of further conversation was brought to an abrupt halt as the drummer boy started to beat on his drum. Women and children hurried towards the church, the only all stone built building in the fort. Men rushed to there places on the battlements while still others began to load the field gun that stood facing the gate in the middle of the courtyard. Inside the church, Mrs McKlennar was handing out old uniform jackets left behind by the Continentals the previous year. The women put on the coats and pushed their hair up under men's hats before taking spare muskets.

“If you can't get your hair up under ya hats cut it off,” Mrs McKlennar cried as she did the work of a Quartermaster, “It won't do ya any good any how if those greasy savages get over the walls.”

“Mary,” Dawn turned to her friend; Mary was pregnant so wouldn't be joining the other women out on the walls, “look after Tom for me...”

“Of course,” Mary took the child from Dawn's arms.

“If anything should happen...” Dawn began but found she couldn't complete what she was about to say because of the big lump in her throat.

“Of course,” Mary cradled the sleeping child in her arms, “I'll look after him as if he was my own.”

“Thanks...” Dawn kissed her friend on the cheek before quickly turning away to collect her uniform and musket, it was time to be strong as well as brave.

As Dawn put on her blue coat she saw Reverend Rosenkrantz herd the children and pregnant women into the strongest part of the chapel, “Sing,” he instructed them, “Sing in praise of the lord!” Dawn softened her opinion of the Reverend slightly, she didn't know if he was doing it deliberately or not but he was probably doing the right thing by giving the children something to do to take their minds off the coming battle.

As Dawn picked up her musket and cartridge box she noticed Mrs Demooth cowering in the corner near the children. The woman wasn't wearing a uniform coat and she wasn't carrying a musket either, it was plain that she wouldn't be joining the other women out on the firing step. Dawn remembered that once she'd compared Mrs Demooth to Cordelia Chase, now she changed her mind. Mrs Demooth and Cordy were nothing like each other. For all her faults, Cordy was brave and loyal when it really counted, Mrs Demooth on the other hand was nothing but a coward, just for a minute Dawn wished Cordy was here with her, as well as Buffy, and her Mom, and Willow. Just for a moment Dawn wished she was a normal teenager again without a baby and husband to worry about. But the feeling passed in a moment. Straightening her shoulders she walked over to where Mrs McKlennar was struggling into her own soldier's jacket, the older woman smiled down at Dawn.

“Just like old times,” she laughed, “now lets show these men how to fight a battle!”

xXx


	16. Chapter 16

16.

By the time that Dawn and Mrs McKlennar had made it up on to the firing step the moon was high in the sky and was lighting up the surrounding terrain with an eerie blue light. The old soldier's widow had divided up the women into four groups, one each to support the men on the walls. As Dawn followed Mrs McKlennar up onto the battlements she heard Reverend Rosenkrantz berating Christian Real for drinking from a jug of cider.

“Don't be such a fool, Reverend,” Dawn heard Mrs McKlennar call as she walked over to stand next to Christian, she turned fierce eyes on the Reverend, “let a man have a little Dutch courage if he wants we could all be dead by tomorrow morning...here Christian,” Mrs McKlennar held out her hand, “give me that jug...”

Christian held out the jug to Mrs McKlennar who took it, raised it to her lips and took a healthy swig.

“Here!” handing the jug to Dawn, Mrs McKlennar wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before turning to look at the men standing around on the walk way, “That's better, now who's in charge here?”

No one said anything, all the men seemed to shuffle their feet and look at Reverend Rosenkrantz.

“What him?” Mrs McKlennar gasped as she gave Rosenkrantz a withering look, “Where's Captain Demooth?” Not that she considered the Captain a good soldier, but anyone was better than Rosenkrantz.

No one knew where Captain Demooth was, he certainly wasn't with his wife in the chapel because Mrs Demooth was still wailing and crying for her husband. Perhaps the good Captain had finally wearied of his wife's hysteria, perhaps he'd been killed by the Indians.

“Oh well,” Mrs McKlennar sighed heavily as she straightened her blue soldier's coat, “I suppose I'll have to take charge.”

“You can't do that...” Rosenkrantz stepped forward to challenge Mrs McKlennar.

“Why not!?” Mrs McKlennar snapped back before the Reverend had a chance to complete what he was about to say.

“B-but you're a woman!”

“That I am,” Mrs McKlennar agreed with a firm nod of the head, “and I'm twice the man that you are...LADIES!” she called loudly, “Make sure the men have enough powder and shot, Dawn you stay near me I might need you to run messages.”

“Yes Ma'am!” Dawn replied as she went to stand closer to Mrs McKlennar.

“Now don't just stand there like a bunch of fools,” Mrs McKlennar cried when she saw no one but Dawn had moved, “MOVE! And be quick about it, when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed.”

The spell broken the men turned to take their positions at the walls while the women moved up and down the line handing out paper cartridges and spare powder for priming.

“Dawn,” Mrs McKlennar turned to Dawn, “Take Daisy and go organise some of the older children to bring water up to the walls, fighting is thirsty work.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Dawn felt like she should curtsy or salute or something but she didn't know how, instead she turned and called out for the maid, “Daisy! Come with me please!”

“There!” cried a voice from the wall; looking up Mrs McKlennar saw a farm about half a mile away burst into flame.

“And another!” called a second voice as more smoke and flame leapt into the still night air.

Walking over to the battlements, Mrs McKlennar could see the fires grow as dimly visible figures ran from one building to another. The moon was so bright that even the Indians running across the fields could be seen quite clearly. Shots rang out across the fields as Indians fired off their muskets in celebration of destroying the hated white-man's farms an answering shot rang out from the wall. Turning to see who'd fired, Mrs McKlennar saw one of the Real boys standing with a smoking musket in his hands.

“Save your powder,” Mrs McKlennar ordered, “we'll be needing it soon enough. No firing until you have a clear target...” she turned away from the wall and looked heavenward, “Oh Barney,” she said quietly so no one could hear, “if ever I needed you by my side, it's now...”

xXx

About two hundred yards away from the wall of the fort ran a little stream. Over the years the water had cut a shallow ditch about two or three feet deep and about four yards wide. It was from this ditch that Colonel Caldwell marshalled his forces. He smiled evilly as he fought to control the urge to turn into his true nature and rush the walls by himself. The American's musket balls couldn't harm him and he doubted that any of the defenders knew enough or had the skill to plunge a stake into his heart. But it would be foolish to expose himself like that and it would probably terrify the savages he commanded. The knowledge of what he was could frighten them into turning on him and he hand no wish to die in a village fire.

Looking left and right, Caldwell grinned as he saw the Indian braves take up position in the ditch. Almost every man there had a musket and he'd even convinced the tribesmen to make ladders so they could scale the walls of the fort. Once inside the Indians had been given orders to kill all the men and old people, the women and children were to be saved for his own and their later amusement. A frown crossed Caldwell's face as he turned to look over his shoulder. Concealed by a dip in the ground was Cunningham and fifty or so green coated Loyalists waiting to back up the Indian's assault. He'd need to watch Cunningham, the man was a good soldier but he had all these ideas about honour, he'd need watching because he'd probably try to stop the massacre that he'd got planned.

Lifting his whistle to his lips, Caldwell took a deep breath into his dead lungs, glancing once more at the eager Indians lining the ditch he blew a long, shrill call. With a shout the Indians rose up and started to rush towards the walls of the fort yelling their savage warcries. The Indians hadn't gone more than a dozen yards before they started to fire off their muskets. The balls would fly harmlessly over the heads of the defenders or 'thunk' into the walls, but Caldwell didn't care, if it made the savages happy he didn't care that they'd reach the walls with unloaded muskets. Standing alone in the ditch, Caldwell checked that there were no braves hanging back before turning to look where Cunningham and his men waited. Raising his sword in the air he waved it from side to side signalling the Loyalists forward.

xXx

“Steady boys,” Mrs McKlennar called softly as musket balls whirled above her head, “steady, don't fire until you can make every shot count...” the Indians were now about one hundred yards away and closing rapidly.

“Ma'am?” Dawn came to a halt next to Mrs McKlennar, “What should I do...” Dawn noticed the advancing Indians for the first time, “...OH!”

“Can you shoot that thing?” Mrs McKlennar asked as she pointed to the musket Dawn was holding.

“Totally,” Dawn shallowed the fear that had risen in her throat.

“Then stand to,” Mrs McKlennar gestured to the firing step as she too picked up her musket and took her place next to the men, “READY BOYS!” she cried waiting a moment longer before yelling, “FIRE!”

Smoke and flame rippled from the muzzles of the defender's muskets as they cut down the front rank of Indians. Women who were not firing rushed forward to replace empty muskets with loaded ones before starting to reload. A second volley flayed the Indians as they reached the bottom of the walls. Warriors fell but there always seemed to be more braves to take the place of the fallen. Indians now started to reload their own muskets and fired up at the walls while others rushed forward with ladders placing them against the walls.

Seeing the ladders go up against the walls the defenders used pitchforks and long branches to push the ladders back down again. By now a stiff fire was being exchanged between the defenders and attackers. So far the Indians were getting the worst of the exchange being out in the open, however the defenders weren't getting it all their own way. Men fell from their places to be pulled away by the hands of wives, sisters, mothers and daughters. Dragged clear of the firing step they were carried down to the magazine where Doctor Petry plied his bloody trade.

Handing her empty musket to a young girl for reloading, Mrs McKlennar accepted a loaded one in exchange. Pulling back the hammer to full cock, she peered over the wall into the semi-dark. Ignoring the balls that flew around her head she watched as a group of dark coated figures carried something heavy towards the gate.

“Good lord!” she gasped as she realised what was going to happen, turning she shouted down in to the court yard, “You men on the cannon better make ready, their going to try to break down the gate!”

Down in the court yard three men worked like furies around the old field gun. One man held up a bucket of iron nails, old horse shoes and other blacksmith's waste while another took handfuls and shovelled it down the barrel.

“Enough!” cried the man as he rammed the scrap metal home, “chain shot!”

The assistant picked up two cannon balls connected by a long piece of chain and fed them into the cannon's maw. Once again the man with the rammer rammed it home, before calling to the man at the breach end of the weapon, “LOADED!”

Hearing the call the 'gunner' pricked the bag charge and poured priming powder into the touch hole. Next he levelled the gun's barrel so it was pointing directly at the gate. There was a stead, 'BOOM! BOOM!' as the battering ram struck the gate. At each blow of the ram the gate bowed a little and the timbers squeaked in protest.

“Better open the gate before they knock it down,” observed the gunner.

Exchanging a glance before moving forward the two loaders rushed over to the gate and removed the heavy locking bar leaving only the far less substantial bar that was used for everyday use in place. Now as the loaders ran back to the gun the gate bowed dramatically at each blow of the ram. After only two or three more strikes the locking bar gave up the unequal struggle and the gates swung ponderously open.

Watching over the barrel of the gun the gunner saw the gate swing open as the gateway filled with howling, battle crazed Indians. Whipping his linstock through the air until it glowed a fiery red he stepped away from the cannon and applied his match to the touch hole. 

“HAVE A CARE!” he yelled as the cannon exploded, belching fire, smoke, chain shot and scrap iron from its muzzle. 

The Indians were cut down as if some vengeful god had taken a scythe to them as they fell in an untidy heap in front of the alter of the cannon's muzzle. Before the Indians had a chance to recover, musket fire flayed them from above. The punishment that the Indians had received would have been too much for all but the toughest, most disciplined, regular troops, so it wasn't surprising when the Indian's fled making their way back to the safety of the ditch.

“CEASE FIRE!” Mrs McKlennar ordered, “Don't waste your powder they'll be back soon enough!” Turning she called to the other walls, “Every third man into the court yard, clear those bodies away and close the gates!”

Without a murmur of complaint men split off and went down into the courtyard to carry out Mrs McKlennar's orders.

xXx

“Xander!” Dawn cried as she threw herself into her husband's arms, “Are you alright,” she started to check him for wounds, “have you been hit?”

“I'm fine,” Xander replied as he held Dawn's warm body against his own, “what about you? Are you okay? What are you doing up here? You might get hit, where's Tom?”

“Tom's safe in the chapel with Mary,” Dawn replied as she hugged Xander fiercely, “And I'm up here helping you keep out the Indians.”

“Yeah, well, like its dangerous and...”

“If you say I shouldn't be up here because I'm a woman you'll be sleeping by yourself in the barn for a month, Xander Harris,” Dawn replied determinedly.

“But I only...” Xander started to defend himself but was cut off once more.

“No one complained when I was kicking Bringer butt at home,” Dawn pointed out.

“Yeah, well,” Xander said weakly; he should know by now that he could never win an argument when Dawn was in a fighting mood, “this is kinda different...”

“Y'know,” Dawn pointed out with a certain amount of menace, “it can get really cold in that barn at night?”

“Okay, okay,” Xander sighed in defeat, “go fight the Indians and get shot, see if I care...but if Buffy asks how you got shot I'm telling.”

“Here they come again!” someone called before Dawn could make a snappy come back.

Turning back to the wall, husband and wife checked their muskets and prepared to fight for their own lives and the lives of all their neighbours.

“Wait for it!” Mrs McKlennar's voice rang out across the fort as she watched the Indians advance.

This time the Indians weren't rushing forward madly. This time they would rush forward fire and reload again before moving closer to the fort. Seeing that the Indians weren't going to try and rush the walls head on Mrs McKlennar told everyone to pick their targets carefully and open fire. Individual shots rang out from the walls as the defenders fired at targets they thought they could hit. Indians fell, but not as many as had fallen in that first mad rush. However, when the Indians got to about seventy-five yards from the walls they started to falter and fall back.

xXx

“Damn useless savages!” Caldwell growled as he watched the assault fall apart; he turned to one of the Loyalists who was acting as an interpreter, “Call them back, we'll wait until the moon's down before we attack again.” Looking around the Colonel caught sight of his second in command, “Mr Cunningham to me if you please.”

“Sir?” William called as he ran over and came to halt in front of his commanding officer.

“How many men did you lose?”

“Only three dead and half-a-dozen wounded, Sir.”

“Good,” another evil smile crossed Caldwell's face, “Those damned rebels must have built a sally port or some kind of hidden tunnel so they can send messages for help.”

“Yes Sir,” William agreed, “that would be normal and as the fort was originally built by our army more, than likely.”

“Good, good,” Caldwell nodded as he imagined the screams of the women and children when he tortured them all, “I want you to find a way in and lead your men and take the rebels from behind.”

“A little like Troy, Sir?”

“Indeed, indeed,” Caldwell laughed, “Now there was a fine slaughter...Lieutenant, I want that fort in our hands by tomorrow dawn, now see to it!”

“Yes Sir!” William cried before trotting off back to his men.

xXx

Standing on the battlements, Mrs McKlennar watched as the Indians fell back, they were obviously taking shelter in the stream bed about two hundred yards away from the fort; it was a perfect spot to launch an attack from. Looking around she congratulated herself on holding the fort, Barney would have been proud of her. However, she knew that their store of powder was seriously depleted, they only had enough to throw back two maybe three more attacks.

“Ma'am?” 

Mrs McKlennar turned at the sound of a familiar voice to see Xander standing next to her, he took hold of her arm in an attempt to lead her away from the wall.

“Please take cover, Ma'am,” Xander said softly, “we can't spare you today.”

“You're a good boy, Alexander,” she patted his hand where it rested on her arm, “you should be with Dawn instead of fussing over an old woman like me...”

Mrs McKlennar never heard the musket shot, but she felt the ball as it struck home. Feeling as if she'd been punched in the chest, she gasped as her hand searched for the bloody hole in her chest and she fell to the ground.

“DOCTOR PETRY!” Xander cried as he knelt down next to the old woman and tried to staunch the bleeding by putting his hands over the wound. “DOCTOR PETRY!” he yelled again as Mrs McKlennar held on to his hand and looked up desperately into his eyes.

Knowing she'd received a mortal wound, she'd seen enough musket wounds over the years to know what she was talking about, she cursed herself for being a stupid, stubborn old woman.

“Oh damn-it all, Alexander,” she gasped as helping hands grabbed hold of her and started to carry her to the surgeon, “Oh Barney what have I done?”

xXx


	17. Chapter 17

17.

If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd fallen and nearly broken his neck, Lieutenant William Cunningham would never have found the concealed exit from the tunnel. Picking himself up and dusting himself off, William called to his soldiers to give him a hand removing the bushes that appeared to have been deliberately planted to hide the exit. A few minutes work with hatchets removed the undergrowth and William was able to see the tunnel exit clearly. The exit was about four feet high by about two and a half feet wide, just big enough in fact to allow the passage of one man at a time. Looking over the top of the exit towards the fort, William saw that the tunnel must head straight towards the west wall, about one-hundred-and-fifty yards away, where there was probably a door or a hatch.

Calling to his sergeant to bring as many barrels of gunpowder as he could find, William sent a runner to find Colonel Caldwell and tell him what he'd found. The tunnel came out in a narrower part of the stream's ditch that the Colonel was already using as a staging area. William would have his men load as much gunpowder against the door or hatch at the fort end of the tunnel while his own Loyalists waited in the ditch. As long as they had enough powder they'd blow a hole in the wall and then rush the breach. His men could hold the breach until the main force of warriors joined them and then the fort would fall. Even if the explosion only blew in the entrance to the tunnel his men could quickly move along the tunnel and come out into the fort. Once inside the fort he and his soldiers could get to the gate and let Caldwell and his Indians in.

For a moment, William wondered on what would happen once the Indians got into the fort. While the Loyalist soldiers were disciplined and would obey orders to take prisoners, the Indian braves were not. The Indians would slaughter everyone in the fort regardless of age or sex, he of course would do what he could to protect the women and children but he was only one man. However, this was all a problem for after they'd won the fort, don't count your chickens until they're hatched, as his old granny had told him, or as the Indians said, 'first catch your bear'! Looking up he saw his sergeant arrive with his men each of whom was carrying a barrel of gunpowder. There were six barrels, he'd need one to lay a fuse, but five should be sufficient to blow down at least a small section of wall. Calling for lanterns and torches, William prepared to head down the tunnel; perhaps the rank of 'Captain' awaited him at the other end.

xXx

“Is there nothing more you can do?” Xander asked as he held up a lantern to light the little room in the chapel where Mrs McKlennar lay. The chamber was just big enough to hold Daisy, the Reverend and the Helmers along with Xander and Dawn.

“No, Alexander,” Doctor Petry replied sadly, “I've done everything I can, its all in the hands of god now...”

“How long?” Xander asked quietly.

“Minutes,” replied the doctor shaking his head sadly, “half-an-hour at most...”

“Stop whispering and help me sit up, I can't breath lying down,” Mrs McKlennar called, “I know I'm dying and I need to settle things.”

Kneeling down next to the bed Xander passed his lantern to Adam as he helped the old woman to sit up a little.

“Thank-you, that's better,” Mrs McKlennar said softly, “Now where's Dawn?”

“Here!” Dawn knelt down next to the bed opposite Xander.

“I'm going fast...”

“No!” sobbed Dawn, Mrs McKlennar had been like a rock in her life and had taught her so many things.

“Yes, those murderin', heathen bastards have done for me,” Mrs McKlennar explained, “now, listen to me, all of you,” she cast her eye around the room, “When I'm gone I want Alexander and Dawn to have my place, they've been like the children I never had...” she looked at Xander, “Alexander you take good care of this wife of yours...goodbye my lucky lad, goodbye Dawn, farewell to all of you....” Mrs McKlennar stopped talking as her eyes grew round as she saw something no one else could see, “Barney!” she gasped before closing her eyes for the last time

“For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever, Amen,” intoned Reverend Rosenkrantz as the old woman slipped away to join her husband.

“Give it a break, Reverend,” Dawn muttered before she looked up at Xander, “You know I never even knew what her first name was, she was always just 'Mrs McKlennar'.”

“I expect...” Xander never got to say what he expected because his train of thought was completely derailed by the sound of a loud explosion from outside, “...WHAT THE FU...!”

“ALARM! ALARM!” came a shouted warning from outside, “THE INDIANS ARE....!”

The shouted warning was cut off by a gunshot.

“To your posts men!” cried Reverend Rosenkrantz as he led the way outside.

Rushing out into the court yard, Xander found it full of smoke, he could hardly see more than a few feet because the moon had nearly gone down and the smoke cut off what little light was given off by the lanterns and torches around the fort. However, over to his left he could just make out some flames as they shone through the smoke.

“They've blown down the wall!” he cried, any moment now the Indians would be climbing through the breach, “Dawn!” he turned to face his wife, “Get all the women and children inside the church...”

“No! I won't,” Dawn replied fiercely, “I want to stay out here with you!”

“Listen to me Dawnie,” Xander grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, he could see the fear there but he could also see the determination in them too. “I want you to take charge of the women, barricade the doors and fight like hell if the Indians get past us.”

For a moment it looked as if Dawn was going to argue, but eventually she nodded her head, kissed Xander on the lips like she'd never see him again and then turned and ran back to the chapel calling for all the women to follow her.

“Adam!” Xander called as he watched Dawn disappear into the chapel.

“Here!” the big man called.

“Lets get organised they'll be here...” men in green coats interrupted Xander as they climbed into the fort over the still smouldering timbers.

Musket fire exploded all around as the two sides exchanged fire. The first burst of firing stopped as men started to reload while others got into position to fire again. A second ragged volley burst out as both sides exchanged fire a new. There was a cheer from the man in the breach as they surged forward led by an officer to engage the defenders with bayonet and musket butt.

Finding himself faced by a charging green coat, Xander fired his musket into his face and watched the man go down. Realising he'd never have time to reload he reversed his musket to use it as a long club. A veritable flood of men in green coats came in through the breach forcing the defenders back across the courtyard. Outside the fort the Indians yelled their warcries as they rushed for the walls and the breach.

Very quickly, Xander knew that they were going to lose this fight. The green coated regulars were inside the fort and pushing the defenders back. The few men left on the firing step couldn't hope to hold back the Indians. In a few more minutes the warriors would be over the wall at which point it would all be over.

Taking a swing at a soldier, Xander managed to hit him with the butt of his musket on the side of the head. One thing all those years of fighting demons had taught him was to go for the head, not many things could survive a good blow to the head. Casting away his musket, Xander picked up the bayonet equipped weapon dropped by his last victim. Deciding to try and head for the breach itself, Xander was soon confronted by an extra large solder who snarled at him through the smoke. Dodging to his left, Xander jabbed with his bayoneted musket catching his opponent in the thigh. Withdrawing his bayonet with a savage twist which drew an agonised yelp from his opponent, Xander moved on only to have his way blocked by another soldier.

“YOU!” Xander cried as he recognised the British officer who looked so much like Angel; they'd fought each other at the battle in the gorge where the soldier had let him escape.

“We meet again, Yankee!” William called as he brought his own musket up into the en garde position, “This time its to the death...but before we begin, where's that lovely wife of yours?”

“What!?” this was not the sort of question he'd been expecting to have to answer.

“Look, hurry man,” William said urgently, “you know what's going to happen once these savages get in, now tell me where your wife is and perhaps I can protect her.”

“Why?” Xander asked totally confused.

“You always looked so happy together whenever I saw you,” William shrugged, “its the least honour dictates that I do.”

“In the chapel,” Xander gestured towards the building in question.

“I'll do what I can to save your wife and the other women,” William nodded to Xander, “now Yankee...DEFEND YOURSELF!”

xXx

Inside the chapel, Dawn did her best to organise the defences. The women barricaded the doors with benches, but the windows were too high up to either barricade or use as positions to fire muskets from. There were enough muskets to arm about half the women but there was only enough powder and shot for three or four rounds a piece. Although Dawn knew she would fight to her last breath and that she was stronger than the average woman (a legacy of being 'made' from her sister, 'The Slayer') she knew that once the Indians got in there'd be no hope. With luck she'd annoy the Indians so much that they'd kill her.

“Mary!” Dawn called to her friend who was still carrying Tom in her arms.

“Dawn!” Mary rushed over to join Dawn next to the main door, “What's going on?”

“We've had it Mary,” Dawn replied urgently, “the enemy soldiers are in the fort and any minute the Indians will be over the wall.”

“ADAM!” Mary cried as she pushed Tom into Dawn's arms and headed for the door.

“NO!” Dawn grabbed hold of Mary's arm and dragged her to a halt, “There's nothing you can do out there...but...there's something you can do in here.”

“What?” Mary looked at Dawn with fear filled eyes, “Anything...”

“Take the children to the back of the church,” Dawn said, her voice as hard as steel, “find yourself a sharp knife or something and make sure the savages don't take the children...”

“You mean...” realisation struck Mary at what Dawn was asking her to do, “...no I can't, I...”

“You must,” Dawn replied as she heard the Indians start to bang on the door trying to break in, “please, you have to...”

“Even Tom?” Mary asked.

“Even Tom,” Dawn agreed sadly.

“Alright I'll try,” Mary said as the true seriousness and hopelessness of the situation dawned on her.

“Thank-you,” Dawn replied with tears in her eyes as she hugged her child for what she was sure would be the last time, “Goodbye my beautiful boy,” she murmured before handing the child back to her friend. “Right!” Dawn called as she turned away from Mary and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, “Where are those bastard, heathen savages?”

Picking up her musket, Dawn positioned herself in front of the doors, with a little luck the Indians would kill her within moments of getting into the chapel, but not before she'd taken a couple with her. Outside the Indians had got themselves organised and were hurling themselves at the doors like a human battering ram. At each blow the door would give a little as the barricade gave way. Pulling the hammer of her musket back to full cock, Dawn wedged the butt under her arm and aimed for the door. Pulling the trigger she didn't wait to see what effect her shot had had. Instead she half cocked her weapon and closed the frizzen. Dropping the butt to the floor she bit off the end of a cartridge.

By the time she'd poured the powder and spat the ball down the barrel the Indians were almost through the door. Rapping the butt smartly on the stone floor, she recovered her musket, pulled back the hammer and fired again just in time to hit the first Indian as he climbed over the ruins of the door and barricade. The ball hit him high in the chest and knocked him backwards to get in the way of his comrades. Shrieking like souls possessed the Indians pushed their dead brother out of the way. Several more Indians went down as other women fired. Within seconds the chapel was full of powder smoke and the cries of Indians and the terrified screams of women and children.

xXx

Parrying the clumsy bayonet thrust, William knocked the American's weapon to one side. Stepping forward he shoulder checked his opponent hard enough to knock him off balance. Falling to the ground Xander looked up to find himself looking up at the British officer's bayonet as it was poised to stab him through the chest.

“Dawn...” Xander cried with what he expected to be his last breath.

Looking down at Xander, William found he couldn't kill the man, instead he reversed his musket and gently, almost delicately hit the American on the forehead knocking him out cold.

“Well,” William smiled, “at least I know what her name is now.”

Hearing increased firing from over my the gate, William looked over in that direction to see warriors firing out of the gate at some unseen target. It was then that he noticed that the sky had grown lighter, the dawn had arrived and they'd not taken the fort.

“GREENCOATS TO ME!” William cried as he lifted his musket above his head.

After about two dozen men had congregated around him he started to make his way towards the gate. Already the Indians were starting to give way as the firing continued to increase from outside. Looking out through the ruin of the gate, William saw blue coated soldiers backed up by a swarm of militia advancing rapidly towards the fort. Some how the Americans had arrived with reinforcements. Looking around William quickly realised his position here was hopeless. Some Americans were still fighting inside the fort so he couldn't hope to hold the fort against the American reinforcements. Neither could he fight with the men he had. His Greencoats were too few and the Indians were already climbing back over the walls and heading for the woods.

“Has anyone seen Colonel Caldwell?” William demanded only to get negative replies, it seemed he was by himself. “Alright men,” William pointed to the breach, “we'll leave this place for now, but I promise you I'll lead you back here...”

Leading his men over to the breach he saw them all though along with their wounded. Glancing over his shoulder as he followed the last man through the breach he saw the first of the American troops enter the fort. They shot or bayoneted any Indians who'd not been quick enough over the walls and William doubted that any of the Indians left in the fort would get away. Running after his men, William wondered where Colonel Caldwell had vanished to. If he discovered that his commanding officer had deserted his troops when he saw the American reinforcements arrive, he'd make sure that Colonel Caldwell was ruined. He could make it happen, his father was a rich and powerful man and would make any charges of cowardice stick.

xXx

Inside the chapel, Dawn struggled with a warrior who was trying to pull off her dress, she punched, kicked, bit and scratched at her foe. The Indian was getting more and more angry as his thoughts turned from rape to murder. Breaking Dawn's hold on his right arm the Indian raised his tomahawk ready to dash out her brains. Just as the his arm began to descend to deliver the fatal blow there was a shot and the Indian felt to the chapel floor. That first shot was followed by others which were themselves followed by angry cries in English.

“Oh my god!” Dawn gasped as she slumped to the floor and saw blue-coated soldiers rush into the chapel killing the last of the Indians as they came, “Hurrah for the Union,” Dawn cried getting her wars mixed up in all the excitement, “rally 'round the flag boys, rally once again...!”

xXx

Outside the fort amongst the bodies of fallen Indian warriors an oddly shaped pile of dust or ash slowly blew away in the breeze. Standing in a shadow under a tree at the edge of the forest, Lieutenant William Cunningham watched the fort. Somehow he knew he wouldn't be back this way, the war was going badly now the Americans had the support of the French and Spanish. Even if his commanders didn't see it he could, they would eventually lose the American colonies. Maybe not this year but some time soon, there was really no point in continuing the fight whatever he'd told his men. Yawning, William turned away and headed deeper into the woods. He had a duty to his men to get them to safety, it was time to go home.

xXx

Dawn knelt in the courtyard as she bandaged Xander's head.

“So,” Dawn smiled as she tied off the bandage, “Angel finally knocked some sense into you?”

“Looks like,” Xander touched his forehead gingerly with his hand, “Ouch!” he cried, “You know what this means?”

“What?” Dawn asked as she sat down and picked up Tom to cradle him in her arms.

“Head wounds are serious,” Xander pointed out, “I'll have to stay in bed for a couple of weeks...you'll...” Xander insinuated his arm around Dawn's waist, “...have to wait on me hand and foot 'til I'm better.”

“Two weeks!” Dawn gasped pulling away from her husband, “Two days and that's like assuming we've still got a bed to lie on, let alone a house!”

“Oh yeah,” Xander agreed, “forgot about that...see...” he grinned, “...I've lost my memory I must be seriously wounded...”

“Alexander, Mrs Harris,” came a familiar voice; Dawn and Xander looked up to see Captain Demooth standing over them, “Are you well?”

“Well enough, Captain,” Xander gestured to his bandaged head.

“You're gonna milk that for all its worth aren't you?” Dawn muttered under her breath.

“Of course,” Xander grinned before turning his attention back to Captain Demooth, “You're a sight for sore eyes Captain...”

“Yes, I was caught outside the fort when the Indians attacked,” Captain Demooth knew how his story must sound, but it was the truth, if he'd tried to get to the fort they'd all be dead by now. “So, I headed for Dayton to bring help and here we are.”

“You did the right thing, Captain,” Xander told him, “we'd all be dead now if you hadn't come back with the reinforcements.”

“Now I wonder if you could tell me where my wife is?” Demooth asked as a dark look crossed his face.

“She was in the chapel last I saw,” Dawn explained.

“Did she help with the defence or did she...?” Captain Demooth left the question hanging.

“Not so much,” Dawn replied sadly.

“You know, Mrs Harris my wife has many fine qualities,” the Captain saw the look of disbelief on Dawn's face, “No its true, but this sort of behaviour has got to stop. I'm not the sort of man who believes in beating his wife but...” the captain took a deep breath before looking back to Xander, “Alexander you have a fine woman in your wife, mind you look after her well. Now if you'll excuse me I have work to do.”

After bowing slightly to Dawn, Captain Demooth, bent and picked up a discarded ramrod before drawing back his shoulders and marching towards the chapel, a man with a mission.

“Well there you go,” Dawn said as she watched Demooth march off, “I can't say I'm totally upset by the idea of Mrs Demooth getting a beating, women's lib notwithstanding...and hey,” she eyed Xander suspiciously, “don't you start getting ideas coz the Captain ordered you to look after me.”

“Me?” Xander looked at Dawn innocently, “The thought had never crossed my mind.”

“Liar,” Dawn laughed as she started to help Xander to his feet, “Come on my poor, old, wounded soldier,” she picked up Xander's musket and handed it to him, “Lets head home and see if we've still got a roof over our heads.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed as he let Dawn steer him towards the fort's gate, “there's a lot of work that'll need doing either way...” 

“Hey Xander,” Dawn said slowly as she helped her husband along the road towards their house.

“What?”

“Is it too soon to talk about having another baby?” Dawn asked “I mean a daughter would be nice.” 

“As long as we don't call her 'Buffy',” Xander replied after a moments thought, “it's fine by me.”

“Hey,” Dawn laughed, “I'd totally never do that to any child of mine...”

“Cool,” Xander sighed with relief.

**Author's note.**

This is where I'd planned for the story to end. I'd several ideas about how I'd finish this fic and this is the one I liked the most. It was also the one closest to how the film ended. However, after talking to a buddy of mine (he writes 'mom-porn' on another site) I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't be able to leave it where I'd left things. So, I wrote another ending, a sort of '...and they lived happily ever after' chapter. I don't particularly like this 'alternate ending' but I've posted it so you can make up your own minds. 


	18. Chapter 18

18.

**The Harris Farm, 1784.**

As it turned out and luckily for Dawn and Xander, the Indians hadn't done a very good job of burning down their farm. Their house was almost untouched, but the main barn had been burnt to the ground and the big house had some serious fire damage but it was nothing that couldn't be repaired. True most of the live stock had been run off, but the Indians had abandoned them when they'd run from the reinforcements. It only took Xander and Adam a couple of days to round up the stock and have them back in the fields again. As the Harris' didn't grow crops there were no fields to replant unlike so many of their neighbours. Although the following winter was difficult for Dawn and Xander it wasn't as bad as the winter their less fortunate neighbours had to endure. Doing the best they could for their friends and neighbours, Dawn and Xander helped out where and how they could.

As time passed the Mohawk valley slowly returned to how it had been when Dawn and Xander had first arrived. The war ended and although the money economy collapsed, people in the towns still needed food and a lively barter system grew up. As things settled down, Dawn found that the fame of her cider making had reached as far away as Albany. It was with the prospect of larger cider sales on the horizon that the Harris' started to plant more apple trees and cut back on the numbers of cattle run on the farm. However they still kept sheep and pigs as they could eat the grass or root around for windfalls under the trees. By the spring of 1784, Dawn and Xander weren't exactly rich but they were well-off enough so that they could hire labourers to do all the hard, boring work around the farm. This let Xander start up a carpentry business, making furniture, farm implements and toys; he even took on a couple of boys as apprentices. 

While Xander worked away in his carpentry shop, Dawn basically ran the farm sending barrels of of cider to Dayton, Albany and even as far south as New York. When she wasn't overseeing the farm she had her hands full with her children. Her eldest, Tom was now a strapping six-year-old who was growing to look more like his father everyday. Dawn's prayers for a girl (or girls) had been answered by the arrival of Sarah, who was now four and Emma who was the baby of the family at two, although the likelihood of Emma being the 'baby' of the family for much longer wasn't going to last, Dawn was fairly sure she was pregnant again.

One afternoon in late spring, Dawn was sitting in her rocker on the front porch admiring the apple blossom on the trees in the new orchard across the track. Tom was playing in the long grass under the trees shooting imaginary red-coats and red-skins with his toy musket. Sarah and Emma were playing with a doll's house at their mother's feet. One of the advantages of being the children of a carpenter was you got really nice presents at Christmas and for your birthdays. Sitting there in the warm spring sunshine, Dawn wondered if life could get any better. After about eight years she hardly missed anything from 'up-time', okay, yes she'd never get used to not having electric light but she'd learned to live without it. Rocking gently back and forth in her chair (one of the first things Xander had made for her after they'd inherited the house), Dawn started to doze off only to be snapped back into full wakefulness when her son called to her.

“Mom!” Tom called as he trotted across the track towards the house, “Mom!” he pointed down the track, “Visitors...”

“Visitors?” Dawn got up and stepped carefully between her girls, “Now I wonder who...”

Joining Tom on the track she looked where he was pointing and sure enough there were two women making their way towards the house. Although they lived less than two miles from the settlement at German Flats visitors, particularly visitors who she didn't know were still few and far between. Of course Adam and Mary Helmer were regular callers and the Reals and the Weavers came round when they could. Captain and Mrs Demooth had even 'visited' every now and again. A slightly unchristian part of Dawn smirked to herself about how 'nice' Mrs Demooth had become since her husband had given her a good thrashing after the battle at the fort. It was either the beating she'd received or the family they'd started that had put a stop to Kate Demooth's, Cordelia-like ways. However, this didn't solve the mystery of who was coming to visit. As the two women got closer Dawn noticed that while one had blonde hair escaping from under her bonnet the other had red and Dawn felt her heart start to beat rapidly.

“Oh good lord,” Dawn gasped as she clutched at her breast.

“Mom?” Tom sounded concerned as he looked up at his mother, “Shall I get Daisy?”

“No I'm fine,” Dawn smiled down at her son, “it's just...” Dawn wondered how she was going to explain visitors from the future to her son; moments later she decided not to bother trying, “Look, Tom if I'm not very much mistaken that's your Auntie Buffy and my old friend Willow coming down the road to visit..”

“Auntie Buffy?” Tom frowned as he leant on his toy gun (making him look even more like his dad as he did so); Tom knew what an 'Auntie' was, he had lots of those, but he wasn't sure what a 'Buffy' was and 'Willow' just sounded like a pretty name for a girl.

“Hi,” Willow called as she and Buffy came within talking range of Dawn, “I wonder if you could like help us out here...” Willow gestured to Buffy who appeared to be fighting with her bonnet while she was trying not to trip over her skirts, “...we're looking for a Dawn Summers she'd be about eighteen or so I...I...?” Willow's mouth dropped open as she realised who she was talking to, “Dawn?”

“Hi Willow,” Dawn smiled as she took a step towards her sister and friend, “Hi Buffy...”

“Dawn?” Buffy stopped struggling with her clothes and stood staring at her sister for a moment, “DAWN!”

Rushing into Dawn's arms, Buffy nearly knocked her sister down.

“Oh, Dawnie, Dawnie!” Buffy sobbed against Dawn's neck, “I thought I'd lost you forever...I...” Buffy held Dawn by the shoulders at arms length and looked at her for a moment before saying, “You've put on weight...”

“Hey,” Dawn felt all the sibling rivalry she thought she'd left behind her in Sunnydale return, “three babies in eight years and you'd put on a little weight!”

Dawn was in fact a little plumper than she used to be and her breasts were _much_ bigger than they'd once been, breast feeding made that sort of thing happen; however, Xander didn't seem to mind plus Dawn was considered something of a local beauty.

“I was about to say you looked a little thin,” Dawn countered.

“Eight years?” Willow asked obviously confused.

“Three babies!?” Buffy shrieked making Tom flinch away from the strange blonde woman, “Who? How? But you're only eighteen...” Buffy glanced around at Willow, “Jump in with an explanation anytime soon, Will.”

“As to who,” Dawn replied as she crossed her arms under her sister intimidating breasts, “Xander...”

“Xander!?” Buffy squeaked so loud she made the sheepdogs start to howl, “I'll...”

“You'll do nothing,” Dawn warned, “and as for 'how', in the normal way...and I loved every minute of it!”

“I...I mean you'll...” Buffy started to turn red as she fought for breath.

“I think I know what's going on here,” Willow stepped forward to explain; Dawn noticed that the witch had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “how old are you Dawnie.”

“Nearly twenty-five, why?”

“Ah, I see...”

“You do?” Buffy turned to face Willow, “Could you show it to me?”

“Its like Dawnie said, eight years.”

“Eight years?” Buffy still hadn't caught on to what Willow and now Dawn had now realised.

“Look,” Willow took a deep breath and went into full lecture mode, “from Dawn's perspective eight years have passed...”

“Oh my god!” Buffy gasped as she realised what had happened, “But...”

“Dawn,” Willow decided it was best not to call the woman in front of her by her childhood name any more, “from our point of view its only been about eighteen months since you and Xander vanished.”

“Vanished?” Tom asked nervously, he wasn't sure what was going on and he wasn't sure he liked these Aunties.

“Not in front of the children,” Dawn laid her hand on her son's head.

“Children?” Buffy seemed to be having trouble keeping up, Willow on the other hand appeared to be having great fun.

“Hi,” Willow bent down and held out her hand to the boy, “I'm Willow Rosenberg and you are?”

“Thomas Harris, Ma'am,” Tom self-consciously shook Willow's hand.

“Tom,” Dawn looked down at her boy, “run into the house and ask Daisy to bring some glasses and a jug of the 'not too strong cider' to the front porch,” she looked up at Willow and Buffy again as Tom ran off, “I don't think the middle of the track is the place for what needs to be said.”

Leading Buffy and Willow up onto the porch, Dawn shooed Sarah and Emma into the house so the 'adults' could have the porch to themselves. As Buffy watched the two little girls run off into the house her mind seemed to start to accept what was going on here.

“Sarah and Emma,” Dawn replied to the unasked question, “now sit and tell me what's going on.”

Just then Daisy appeared with the cider and glasses and put them on the table next to Dawn's rocker before going back into the house.

“You have a slave?” Buffy whispered in alarm once the woman was out of ear shot.

“I do not!” Dawn replied angry that her sister could think such a thing, “Daisy is my housekeeper and I pay her good wages for the work she does...slave indeed, the very idea!” 

“So, Dawn,” Willow started to change the subject before the sisters went into a full 'hair pulling' fight, “you're nearly twenty-five. That makes you and Buffy almost the same age...”

0=0=0=0

As the afternoon past and the level of cider in the jug dropped, Buffy and Willow explained to Dawn how the First had been defeated and how their lives had progressed after Sunnydale did its nosedive into hell. For her part, Dawn gave a brief account of fighting the British and their Indian allies; and what it was like to be a farmer's wife, business woman and mother in the late 1700's. At some point Daisy came out to ask if Dawn's guests would be staying the night. Willow looked for a moment as if she was working something out before glancing at Buffy and saying that, yes they could stay _one_ night.

“What's going on, guys?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Look, Dawnie,” Buffy leant towards her sister, “we came here to take you home but...” Buffy glanced miserably at Willow, “...can you explain Will?”

“Sure,” Willow nodded her head, “you see we used magic to get here and like we said we only thought eighteen months had passed so we only used enough magic to get you and Xander home, so...” Willow let her voice trail off.

“So, if I wanted to go home with you, I'd have to leave my babies here?” Dawn's voice almost broke at the thought of deserting her family, “If that's the price I won't go and I know Xander wouldn't want to go either.”

“Where is Xander?” Willow asked wishing she could see her old friend for what might be the last time.

“He's helping a neighbour, I can send a farm hand to fetch him if you like?” Dawn offered.

“No its too late,” Willow observed sadly, “and we'd have to leave early in the morning anyway.”

“But...” Dawn had just had what she thought was a radical idea, “...if I can't go back to the future why don't you stay in the past?”

“Thanks, but no thanks Dawn,” Willow shook her head, “I've got a girlfriend waiting for me in the future, and don't they still burn witches here...but...” she looked at Buffy, “...but I don't see why Buffy couldn't stay.”

“Stay here in the past?” Buffy asked shocked by the very idea, “What would I do in the past and who'd do all the stuff that needs to be done in the future.”

“Oh,” Willow sighed heavily, “there's Giles and Faith and about a _thousand new slayers_ ,” Willow explained as if she was talking to a stubborn five-year-old, “You're not the _only_ one anymore Buffy, I'd be sorry to see you go, but you're not indispensable anymore and haven't you always been whining about wanting a normal life for the last eight or nine years?”

“I don't whine,” Buffy sulked.

“But you've never really been comfortable about being the slayer,” Willow pointed out, “have you?”

“But what would I do here?” Buffy said neatly sidestepping Willow's question.

“You could get married and have babies,” Dawn suggested, “it's surprisingly fore-filling particularly if you're fighting off Indians at the same time.”

“Don't you mean 'Native Americans' sweetie?” Willow asked.

“No,” Dawn snapped back, “what I meant was bloody-murderin'-heathern-savages!”

“Meep!” Willow meeped in surprise at the force of Dawn's words.

“But who'd want to marry me?” Buffy was in danger of dropping into self pity; Dawn knew she needed to say something supportive and say it soon.

“I can think of three eligible bachelors who'd marry you sight unseen just because you're my sister...” Dawn pointed out, “...and if you were willing to take on children from a previous wife there's another two who'd marry you in a shot...after I've had a chance to fatten you up a little of course,” Dawn gave her sister a pitying look, “you're a bit skinny for the here and now...”

“I'm not a prize cow to be sold off to the highest bidder,” Buffy complained, “and I don't know a thing about cooking and stuff...”

“You're a good cook,” Dawn pointed out, “and if I can lean to cook and sew and have babies then you can too and...” an 'evil' twinkle came to Dawn's eyes as she remembered something, she didn't know how she could have forgotten about one of her new neighbours, “...I know just the man for you Buffy...”

“You do?” Buffy didn't sound so certain. 

“Yep,” Dawn smirked, “he's a little older than you, he's Anglo-Irish and he used to be in the army,” Dawn didn't mention that the army he'd been in was the 'British Army', “he's got a nice farm a couple of miles from here and he's looking for a wife, you'll love him!”

“I will?” Buffy replied uncertainly but both Willow and Dawn knew that Buffy wouldn't be going to the future in the morning.

“Hey,” Willow smiled, “he sounds great, if I wasn't gay and already involved I'd snap him up!”

“Oooooh,” Buffy moaned, “can I sleep on it?”

“Sure why not?” Dawn smiled; it was a pity that she couldn't get William Cunningham over now, once Buffy saw 'Angel' she'd be begging Willow to let her stay behind.

0=0=0=0

**The Harris Farm, summer 1785.**

Sitting on Buffy's bed, Dawn held baby Giles on her lap (Xander had insisted they call their new son after the only real father figure he'd ever known) as she watched Buffy fussing over her wedding dress. It was a beautiful dark blue dress all the way from New York, it'd been Dawn's wedding gift to her sister. Buffy looked down at herself and smiled.

“You know, every time I look at this dress I can't help but remember that Halloween when Ethan Rayne came to town,” Buffy said wistfully.

“Well, this time you won't turn into a helpless noble woman,” Dawn pointed out as she untangled her son's hand from her hair.

“No I don't suppose I will,” Buffy sighed before looking Dawn in the eye, “am I doing the right thing, Dawn?”

“Second thoughts?”

“Sorta.”

“Well,” Dawn shrugged, “as long as you don't call William, 'Angel' I think you'll do fine.”

“You think?”

“Trust me I'm a wife and mother, I know stuff.”

“You're also my evil little sister,” Buffy laughed, “who I'd not swap for all the gold in Mexico.”

“Why Mexico?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Who knows?” Buffy shrugged as she gave a worried glance out of the window, “Is it me or is he late? Maybe he's got cold feet and left for Canada!?”

“I don't think he has,” Dawn reassured Buffy, “anyway its time to give you, Old Mother Harris' recipe for a happy marriage.”

“Huh?”

“Its something I tell all new brides,” Dawn explained with a grin, “I'm totally notorious for it.”

“Okay, hit me,” Buffy sighed as she sat down on the bed next to her sister.

“Right,” Dawn took a deep breath, “first, don't try to change your man, he'll turn into a husband in his own good time, I mean look at Adam, wonderful husband and father, now; a few years ago, not so much. Don't go to bed angry at each other. Don't use sex to blackmail your man.” Dawn paused for a moment, “and remember the way to a man's heart is good food and good sex, now I know you can do the food, as for the sex...” Dawn shrugged, “...give it your all and stop laughing when I'm giving you important advice here!”

“Sorry,” Buffy tried to stifle her giggles and let Dawn finish.

“Where was I?”

“Sex.”

“Okay, sex and plenty of it, at least once a day and twice on Sunday, once before church and...”

“...and once after,” Buffy laughed before asking, “Do you and Xander have sex 'at least' once a day?”

“Totally,” Dawn nodded.

“Even if you're pregnant?”

“Even if I'm pregnant,” Dawn smiled as she held Buffy's hand, “look, its simple, if you keep your guy happy in bed you'll never find him in someone else's.”

“Got it,” Buffy nodded, “and this works?”

“Works for me,” Dawn admitted as someone knocked on the door.

“Hey guys,” Xander called from outside, he'd be giving away the bride today, “William's here, its time for you to come and get hitched Buff!”

“We're coming,” Dawn called as she got to her feet.

“Its nice to see Xander and William get on so well,” Buffy said as she followed her sister to the door, “Xander never liked Angel did he?”

“Can you blame him? Look, William isn't Angel,” Dawn reminded her sister, “and Xander and William worked some stuff out from back in the war...”

“They did?”

“Remind me to tell you the story about how William almost killed Xander...twice!”

As Buffy followed Dawn down the stairs and out into the yard where Reverend Rosenkrantz would perform the wedding ceremony, she realised she'd got what she'd always wanted; she'd got 'normal'. Okay it was 'normal' two hundred years before she was born, but it was normal and she wasn't about to screw it up.

**The End.**


End file.
